


Soldier Boy

by AdrienneBlack



Series: Soldier Boy Duology [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (MCU)
Genre: Completed, Drama & Romance, F/M, Medicine, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 87,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrienneBlack/pseuds/AdrienneBlack
Summary: (Completed) Bucky Barnes always promised Steve Rogers one thing-that he would be with him to the end of the line. And now, after remembering who is really is he intends to keep that promise. He needs to stay close to the little punk and be ready to come back the moment Captain America finds an enemy he can't face alone. To do that, Bucky enlists the help of Sharon Carter who finds him a safe place to hide and recover. It comes with a catch though, a condition by the name of Melody Frasier, a trauma surgeon who has worked with the Avengers in the past.Safely hidden away at the Frasier home the only enemy Bucky has to worry about are the ghosts that prowl about the home and scream. Too bad his ghosts aren't the only ones walking around.Posted originally on Wattpad.com under the username Adrienne-Black





	1. One

The street lights were slightly blinding as Melody watched the city slowly fade out of sight. Her stomach was in knots as she stared at her friend Sharon. The agent's long blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, the severe expression on her face reminding Melody of the look she saw when she told patients that their loved one didn't make it.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing here?" she asked finally, running a hand through her hair. The dark blonde hair felt greasy and Melody winced-how long had it been since she showered last? She didn't know. Her last shift at the hospital had been twelve hours at least so it had probably been before that, unless she'd forgotten to.

Sharon's phone call had been shocking to say the least and very distracting as a result. Her friend hadn't said much, but given how covert she was being Melody guessed it had something to do with Steve Rogers and the Avengers again.

Sharon sighed as she took a left turn down a lonely dirt road. Melody's stomach twisted seeing it. She hadn't been back in years.

"You know Steve," Sharon said, voice careful as though she was hedging around a dangerous topic. Which, Melody realized she probably was.

"Yes, I remember him," she commented with a dark smile. "He saved my life when New York was attacked. My ER would have been a much bigger mess and that morgue would have had more bodies in it if it hadn't been for him and his team."

Sharon smiled. "Good, so please remember that when I ask you to do this for him."

"You got it."

The breaks of the car creaked as Sharon pulled into the driveway and there, nestled against the black forest of pine trees rested a large white house with a porch. Melody's childhood home-for twelve, nearly thirteen years of it at least, her grandparents place had served as her home until she'd turned eighteen. Her mother hadn't been able to bear being there after John Frasier had died. It had been bad enough that the house had been put in Melody's name after she'd graduated from medical school.

Moria Frasier hadn't been able to part with the place, but she hadn't been able to keep it either.

Melody hadn't been able to live there, but she hadn't been able to part with it.

Too many memories.

Sharon cut off the engine and the sputtering machine died, leaving only the quiet of the night. "What do you know about the Winter Solider?"

Melody blinked. "Next to nothing, just that he's an assassin. Did Rogers get in a brawl with him again? I understand he might not want that publicized but depending on how bad his injuries are I cannot just patch him up here. I'd need pain-killers, a surgical team, proper equipment-."

"He doesn't need surgery and he did get into a brawl with the Winter Solider, but he's fine. It's the Winter Solider that needs your help," Sharon frowned. "Wait, sorry, it's Bucky Barnes that needs your help."

"What?" Melody tried to process the information.

"Hydra brainwashed him back in the 1940s, turned him into a weapon, took away his will and took away his memories. The last time he encountered Steve they started to come back."

Sharon paused, blue eyes flashing towards Melody's pale face, silently asking if clarification was needed. "Following," Melody replied. "And?"

"He's a criminal now, for crimes he never wanted to comitt. Crimes others forced him to comitt. If he's caught he'll be thrown into jail, no questions asked and he won't get a fair trail."

"Yes, and where do I play into this?"

"He can hide here and you can help him. You be his link to the outside world."

Melody scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"As Nick Fury," Sharon said with a complete poker face. "He won't run too far-he wants to be close to Steve, just in case something happens. You know Steve-he isn't always wise when he picks his battles. Bucky knows that and...And in case he picks a more dangerous one, he wants to be close by, be there to help his friend."

Melody nodded. "Alright, and?"

"And he needs a place to hide and he needs someone that can go between here and everywhere else freely. Someone who isn't being watched like I am or other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. And what's more..well if he gets injured in the next intergalactic battle that hits New York, he's going to need medical attention and he can't walk into a hospital to get it."

"Which is where I come in," Melody said, finishing her friend's thought. "I bring enough work home with me already," she smiled again as she thought of the stitching and suturing kits she'd stocked up on in case the Avengers knocked on her door again.

"Yes," Sharon agreed, a hesitant and hopeful smile coming to her face. "Look, Mel," the other woman grabbed her hand. "I know how much I'm asking. But I know you-you are a good person. You save lives everyday. You take people who've suffered through traumatic and life-threatening situations and you save them. You give them a second chance. So please, give him one."

Sharon's eyes were huge and imploring and Melody closed her own eyes, shutting out the old house with too many ghosts.

Sounds assaulted her mind-the ghost of her past would not be shut out so easily. Unseen though they were now, there was no way to block out the noise they made. Laughter, shouting, crying, screaming and the finality of a gunshot blasting through the house.

Melody opened her eyes and then stared at the key chain in her hand. It was just a gold circle with the words he who saves one life saves the world in time carved in the center.

Her hand closed around the metal. "Seventy-five, car-crash, mother, saved." The words brought back other ghosts, ones even louder and more vibrant than the ones in the house. The blaring siren of the ambulance, the bloodied, broken body on the structure, the hysterical broken voice as the woman asked for her child.

Melody's hands becoming stained with blood as she tied a bandage around the mangled limb. The seventy-five pitch black stitches Melody had placed into the gouge that had traced the length of her leg when the bleeding was finally under control.

The card a year later, and the key chain that had come with it.

The memory shut out the ghosts and Melody opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm in."

Sharon beamed. "Let's go inside and say hello. He's waiting."

********************

Some notes:

The start of this story takes place after The Winter Solider and before Civil War. I'm trying to stay within the canon story lines but somethings might be altered to fit the story or because I forgot and messed up a detail.

Also, I have never written an Avengers fic in my life so any feedback would be welcome!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Two

This house needed a good dusting. That was Bucky's first thought when he slipped in through the back door. It had been easy work to pick the lock. The house was empty and silent, the creaking floorboards loud in the quiet. The kitchen screamed of luxury. The space was bigger than Bucky's old apartment back in nineteen-forty. It might have even looked nice once, but now it was covered in cobwebs and dust and dead critters.

Bucky moved through the rest of the house and found a living room-or at least it looked like one. Everything there was covered in sheets that only stood out thanks to the color catching the moonlight that flowed in from the windows.

Wrinkling his nose, Bucky ripped one of them off what appeared to be a couch and sat down. A cloud of dust flew up in the darkness and he sneezed.

I really hope I'm not allergic to this stuff, he thought. But that really would be the least of my problems.

Here he was worrying about a dust allergy when he had nearly murdered his best friend. When he regained his conscious and had to face the reality that he'd murdered countless people since World War Two for Hydra. That he'd become a wanted man in several different countries because of it.

Yes, Bucky certainly had for more things to worry about than a dust allergy. He glanced at the glowing watch on his arm, the technology was still unfamiliar to him, but thankfully the numbers were clear and impossible to mistake. Sharon was due to walk through the door any minute.

As if on cue, there was a click of a lock and the sound set Bucky's senses into overdrive, his hand traveled to the gun hidden in his jeans-just in case. Hydra had certainly taught him to be prepared for anything.

"Bucky?" Sharon's voice called out to him and there was a blinding flash as the lights flickered on. "Are you here?"

Footsteps sounded in the house and Bucky's surroundings became even clearer. A china cabinet rested on the south wall, the glass covered in grime and obscuring the contents inside. A chair and another couch as well as a large glass coffee table rested in the living room with Bucky, each covered haphazardly with a dirty white sheet.

"Bucky?"

Sharon came into view, her blue eyes bright with relief. Her dress was casual. Jeans and an army-green jacket, long hair pulled back into a baseball cap. It certainly looked like something anyone on the street would wear, nothing about it was noticeable-the sort of dress worn by someone who didn't want to attract attention.

"Agent Carter," Bucky said softly, remarking how the last person he had said that to had been a different woman in a different time. "Good to see you again."

"You too."

Liar, Bucky thought, but he didn't say that aloud. He had few friends in the world and even fewer allies. He wasn't going to get anywhere by pointing out obvious facts. Most notably that if she was caught helping him she'd wind up facing prison at best and the enemies of the Winter Solider at worst.

"There's someone I want you to meet," the agent continued on, ignoring the tension Bucky was exerting. "Mel?"

There was a second set of feet moving then, a sharp ticking noise-heels probably, as they tapped on the floor.

Another woman came into view-a stranger.

She was dressed in a black trench coat and her serious face was framed by shoulder-length dark blonde hair. Her stance was tense, arms crossed in front of her and eyes carefully scanning the room as though she expected an assault at any moment.

"This is my good friend Doctor Melody Frasier, this house is hers."

"Nice to meet you Doctor Frasier," Bucky mumbled, the words feeling forced and false. There was nothing really nice about this meeting. She was meeting a criminal, a murderer, a human weapon that had been taken apart and put back together over and over again. This couldn't be a nice meeting for any of them.

"Call me Mel," the woman replied stiffly. "Everyone does."

"She'll help you if you need it, bring you food, supplies and news on Steve when she gets it. Anything else you need you need to just ask. Right Mel?" The agent nudged her friend, smiling softly at her.

The doctor nodded in reply, but she didn't seem nearly as excited about the prospect as Sharon did. "I'll leave my contact information in the kitchen," she said. "And I'll be back in the morning with some cleaning supplies. This place is a mess-sorry about that, no one's really been here in a long time."

I noticed, Bucky thought. "It's fine, I've been in worse places."

Pity flashed in the agent's eyes. "I'm sure you have."

She glanced at her friend then, "I need to leave, will you be okay if I take your car? I'll have one of the guys bring it back before morning, but you'll have to-."

"I know," the doctor replied. "It's fine, go save the world and keep up with the superheros. I'll be fine, I'm so tired I'll probably kneel over anywhere that holds still long enough at this point."

"Oh shit!" The agent cursed. "I'm so sorry! I forgot how many hours-."

"Sharon it's fine," the doctor said with the same serious expression. "Go, I'll find an empty bed and crash for the next four hours-."

"Eight," Sharon interrupted. "Eight hours at least-you've pulled how many hours this week? You need sleep!"

Doctor Frasier didn't appear to be phased by this and Sharon appeared to know it. "You cannot fall asleep when you are elbow deep in someone's body cavity Doctor Frasier."

This appeared to phase the doctor, she smiled ruefully and yawned. "Yeah, I know."

"Get some rest," Sharon insisted again and then she leaned forward and wrapped the woman in a hug. The doctor stiffened and did not return the gesture. "Thank you so much Mel, we owe you big time."

Sharon let go of her friend and Bucky saw the doctor shrug. "What else is new?"

"Call me if either of you need anything, alright?" And without further word, Sharon Carter disappeared from view and there was a door clicking shut, a purr of an engine coming to life and then nothing except the stillness of night.

"So," the doctor said. "Sharon tells me your name is Bucky?"

He nodded, staring down at his hands. One flesh and blood and one metal. One belonged to a man and one belonged to a monster. "Yes."

"Nickname isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What's your real name?"

"Doesn't matter," was his curt reply. James Barnes had died the moment he fell from the train.

"If you're living in my house, I think that it does," the woman replied. "So your name, please?"

Bucky grit his teeth. "James Barnes-but don't call me that, my name is Bucky."

"Fine," the doctor agreed. "Bucky it is," the doctor shrugged off her trench coat and threw it on the back of a chair. A cloud of dust flew up on the impact. Underneath Bucky noted that she was wearing a long sleeve shirt that was probably not that comfortable in the humid summer air.

"We won't have time to clean tonight and we don't have the supplies," the doctor said. "So I think it's best that we rest. You look like hell."

"Gee thanks," Bucky said with a sarcastic grin. "You do too."

"I know that," Melody replied. "Sixty hours a week do that to a girl." She smirked then, staring at her long fingered hands. "Bedrooms are on the second floor, let's hope the blankets are moth eaten. I fired the housekeeper last month so I don't know what condition the place is in now. Good night Bucky."

And with no further word the doctor walked passed Bucky and up the stairwell and soon the sounds of her footsteps became distant above his head until they were gone.

Bucky flopped back onto the couch, his metal fingers gripping the fabric of the seat and tearing it to shreds. He had a place to stay. A place that was close in case the little punk known as Steve Rogers got into a fight that was too hard to win alone.

He'd be close by.

He'd be there if Steve needed him.

He'd be there until the end of the line.

Assuming the ghosts in his head didn't drag him six feet under first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) Again, any feedback is welcome!


	3. Three

_Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming.One. Freight car._

_Ready to comply._

_Screams. Voices, begging for mercy but they fall on deaf ears. There is no mercy. There is no hearing their desperate pleas. There is only the mission._

_Blood. Gunshots. A sliver knife sinking into soft flesh. More blood. Screaming. Pleas for mercy. Pleas to be spared._

_But there was nothing. The machine couldn't hear the pleas. The monster didn't have pity. The Winter Soldier didn't spare lives. He took them._

Bucky woke up screaming. The raw sound ripped at his throat as flashes of too many strangers buzzed through his mind. Broken, shattered fragments but all startlingly clear as the same event happened over and over. Death, death, death and more death.

Death by the hands of a man-made monster. Death by the hands of someone who'd been ripped apart and put back together over and over again to be made into the perfect weapon. The solider without a mind. A solider who followed orders without questions. A murderer who would not even recognize his own best friend.

He fumbled in the dark, turning on the lamp that was on the nightstand and the room was flooded with light. The lack of darkness helped take away the ghosts of all those he'd murdered, but it didn't dispel them entirely. Most of the murder's Bucky had committed had taken place at night, under the cover of darkness and the light took away the faces, but not the sound of their screams.

They were loud as ever.

"Breathe, breathe, breathe," Bucky muttered frantically to himself, grasping his hair and twisting at the roots. The pain was mild, but it was stung enough to drag him away from the ghosts. The ghosts were all in his head. Physical pain like this wasn't. "Breathe," he muttered again, shutting his eyes as though it would kill the howling of the dead. "Breathe."

"Bucky?"

The familiar use of his nickname was like a shock to his system and for a second the ghosts took a back seat as new sounds, real noises outside of his head. There was a creak of floorboards and then a sharp rapt on the door. "Are you alive?"

"No," he responded sharply as the door opened and Doctor Frasier came into the light. Her short hair was mussed on one side and her green eyes were bleary with sleep. "I didn't say 'come in'."

"I wasn't waiting for an invitation," Melody replied as she yawned. "You sounded like you were being stabbed."

I think stabbing would be preferable to this. "Familiar with the sound Doctor Frasier?"

"I'm a trauma surgeon," she said as her eyes narrowed into slits. "I've seen stabbings, gunshots, car crashes and a whole host of other very painful ways people can be injured. So yes, I'm familiar with the sound."

Not like I am. You can't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like to hear the ghosts of everyone who've killed screaming pleas for mercy and compassion at you over and over again. You don't know what it's like to never shut that off.

Bucky didn't say any of that though. There wasn't any point. The doctor would just give him the same pitying look Sharon did and that was the last thing he needed. Pity didn't bring those people back. Pity didn't take the ghosts away. Pity didn't change what he'd become.

"Are you alright?"

Bucky gave her a blank look. What a stupid question to ask.

Melody's eyes closed slowly. "Are you injuried-physically? Have you suffered bodily harm in the last few hours?"

"No."

Melody nodded. "Good," she opened the door again. "I'll be in the room next door if you need me. Just wake me up."

"Rather not," Bucky muttered low enough that the doctor wouldn't hear him. She had no place trying to help with this. No one could help him. There was no one in the world who knew what this was like-no one that could even come close to understanding his past and everything he'd done.

The door closed and Bucky laid back down against the bed, and despite the warmth of the blankets, the softness of the mattress and the overall exhaustion running through his body, Bucky did not welcome sleep.

When he slept the ghosts were impossible to beat. There was no way to keep them at bay.

Bucky wasn't eager to see them again and so he fought to stay awake. When he was awake the memories remained. The ghosts hovered nearby, but when he was awake Bucky could fight back.

He couldn't lose that defense.

He had a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Four

Melody heard the gunshot before she heard Bucky's screams.

The ghost grabbed hold of her and jolted her from sleep with that same, loud, echoing blast. Her eyes snapped open, sweat slithering down her face as the sound faded away the spatters of blood on the wall vanished as the ghost lost it's grip

It was a dream, Melody told herself sternly. It is in the past.

The ghost still lurked around the corners of her mind, ready to bring the events of that day back, but a new, louder sound. A sound that wasn't a ghost from her past threatening to drag her back to when It happened. 

This sound was in the real world. A sound that wasn't a memory.

It was a sound of complete and utter terror as well and the sound prompted Melody to her feet. She'd heard it before. She'd heard it when Moira Frasier found the body of her husband. She'd heard it in the ER, people screaming for their loved ones as their minds tried to process whatever horrible event had happened. She'd heard it the day Loki attacked New York as people tried to get away from the chaos.

Melody was familiar with trauma. She was familiar with fear. So now she knew how to react.

She walked in the darkness, her body remembering the paths of the room though her mind had long since forgotten and she opened the door and crossed the hall to where her guest was staying.

"Bucky?" she called through the door, her voice loud in the silent house. Are you alive?" Given the ragged sound of breathing on the other side of the door Melody was sure he was, but she knew the question would bring a response from him and that was what she needed. She needed to get him to talk, to keep his whatever ghosts were grabbing at him from dragging him back under again. First rule of patient care in the ER, keep the patient calm.

"No," was the sharp reply as Melody opened the door and winced. He'd turned on the light and the contrast was stark compared to the dark hallway. Bucky saw upright in his bed, body hunched over as though he'd been punched, his eyes wide and wild with fear, hands twisted around his head, like he was trying to hold himself together. "I didn't say 'come in'," he remarked, voice ragged and Melody yawned despite herself.

"I wasn't waiting for an invitation,"she told him. The ER had taught her not to wait. If a patient was distressed and something was going wrong you didn't wait for their approval. You did not have the time. You had seconds to act. Seconds that separate life and death and so there was no time to be polite.

There wasn't time now either. "You sounded like you were being stabbed," Melody told him which was true. She threw in another crass statement, watching as life flickered behind his eyes. Good, she thought. Good, he's coming out of it.

"Familiar with the sound Doctor Frasier?"he asked, voice cold like ice.

Melody felt herself prickle at little at the response. Partly to distract him and partly because she was annoyed that he'd already forgotten her profession.

"I'm a trauma surgeon. I've seen stabbings, gunshots, car crashes and a whole host of other very painful ways people can be injured. So yes, I'm familiar with the sound."

She then dropped her tense tone and took a deep breath as she focused on the man in front of her. PTSD occurred in ordinary situations, and that was enough to rip people's minds apart. What Bucky had been through was outside of that "ordinary" category and she couldn't imagine how much more deadly it became because of it.

"Are you alright?" she asked, aware of how stupid the question actually was. But what else could she ask? Anything that would have made sense would have been too personal, would have invited questions or remarks that would drudge up the more damaged parts of her own mind. And that had to be avoided at all costs. "Are you injured-physically?" she specified. "Have you suffered bodily harm in the last few hours?"

The solider stared at her blankly again. "No."

"Good," she remarked. She had no doubt that someone else hadn't harmed him, at least not right this moment. But she fully intended to keep a close eye on Bucky just in case, there was no person who would hurt him here except himself and that worried her a great deal. "I'll be in the room next door if you need me. Just wake me up."

Not that I'll be asleep, she thought as she was back out in the hallway again. The ghosts in her mind were quiet now, but sleep would change that. Sleep didn't offer the distractions the waking world did. Sleep didn't allow Melody to play her word game. Sleep didn't allow her to sing and shut out the noise.

Melody returned to her room for a second, barely opening the door to check the time on the alarm clock. Just a little passed six-thirty.

It was time to start the day.

She'd slept long enough, now it was time to go back to normal. Or as normal as she could obtain with the Winter Solider living in her parents house.

But then again, Melody thought with some morbid humor. I lost my chance at normal a long time ago.

The gunshot echoed in her mind again. Loud like a canon blast and deafening. Melody shut her eyes against the memory as the acrid smell of a fired gun, and blood spraying the walls came back to her.

"Christmas, black ice, lime," Melody recited the words quickly underneath her breath and new images came, blocking out the morbid one that was still trying to pull her back.

The old woman who'd been walking outside the icy December evening and she'd fallen on the ice and when failing to grab something nearby for support and stability had sliced open her hand. It had only been ten stitches but she'd broken her hip as well on the fall.

Melody had been in the ER that day and stitched up up. Her name had been Evelyn and she'd asked Melody what a young thing was doing there on Christmas.

The answer had been that she had no family to be with anymore. So the woman had asked if they might spend Christmas together-at least until visiting hours ended.

And so that had been what they did. Melody still had the teddy bear Evelyn had given her back in her apartment. They'd never seen one another again, but Melody still cherished that memory. The kindness to show to a complete stranger still warmed her heart.

Melody laughed quietly to herself as she thought of the tiny teal bear with one eye missing. The idea of Doctor "Freezer" having a heart to warm would have made the interns at West Memorial laugh themselves silly.

Melody left her room then, watching as light began to peak up from the Eastern sky. The day had finally come and for a moment, Melody shut her eyes, facing the warmth of the day. This was her favorite part of the day-the one moment of peace she had before the world came back. The one moment where it was all peaceful. The moment where she was, for just a second, free of her need to play with her words and hold back the ghosts.

This was the moment and they were gone for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	5. Five

Bucky stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, not having slept a wink after his nightmare. His surroundings surprised him and for a moment he wondered if he was hallucinating in a half-awake state.

The kitchen was gleaming. White marble counters flashed in the sunlight, the metal appliances were free of dust and grime, the cobwebs had been swept out of the corners and the smell of coffee permeated the air. 

"Good morning," the voice startled him and Bucky jumped back, muscles tensing as he readied himself for whatever new threat was waiting.

Doctor Frasier was standing by the coffeepot, a mug in each hand, short hair combed, wearing the same long-sleeved shirt from the other day and a half-smile on her face. She set one of them on the counter and stepped back, one hand up-a gesture that always meant complacence.

Bucky eyed the mug warily for a moment as he picked it up. The black liquid was bitter and jarring to his senses-exactly what he needed.

"You're welcome," Melody muttered dryly and there was a clink of ceramic on stone as she set down her cup. 

"Thanks," Bucky said automatically as he took another sip. "You cleaned."

"Observant," Melody said. "Yes, I did, I went out this morning and bought supplies. I got the kitchen and the first floor bathroom cleaned out, but I have to run to the hospital. I have a patient I need to check on."

"You told Sharon you had the day off."

"I do," the doctor replied. "But I'm still going to work, only as a visitor, not as a doctor. Officially at least." Her pale lips pulled into a frown. "If those idiots I call interns mess up on this case I will make their lives miserable so help me God."

There was a bang of keys and shoes on the wooden floor and then Melody was at the door. "I left my phone number on the table next to a secure cell phone, Sharon told me you knew how to use one and you call me if you need something or can't figure out how to work something. I also have a handgun stashed in the top left drawer of the island if someone unfriendly comes through the door it's loaded and ready to use."

Bucky blinked. "Excuse me?"

Melody shrugged. "I live alone and it's not unwise to have a little protection. I normally have it as a conceal and carry but I figured your needs are greater than mine. I don't have people out looking to kill me-or at least not ones that I know about. I'll survive without it until I can get another one."

"You think I could be tracked here?" Bucky said, hearing acid in his voice. "Sharon said this place was safe."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be safe too wasn't it?" The doctor remarked as she turned the handle on the front door. "And it was compromised six months ago. Things can change in seconds in the ER, one little thing shifts and everything goes to straight to hell. I'm sure in the world of super soldiers, international organizations and man-hunts that the same idea applies. So I've decided to be prepared."

Bucky smiled despite himself. "Smart."

"For a blonde?" 

"I didn't say that." That wasn't his thought at all. He was surprised a civilian would have thought that far ahead. Someone who'd clearly  lived a charmed life would think to prepare for the worst case situation. It was military thinking, not the mindset of someone who'd never viewed the hell that was war.

"You were thinking it though right? Don't worry, I won't hold that over you. Most people are like that."

 _I'm nothing like other people._ Bucky opted not to say that aloud the fact was obvious enough without a reminder _._ There was no point in telling Doctor Frasier just who she had sitting in her house-it might make her reconsider letting him stay here and that was something Bucky wasn't willing to risk. _  
_

He needed to be close by. He needed to be here in case Steve needed his help. Til the end of the line. That was the promise they made and Bucky had every intention to keep that. Hydra had robbed him of the ability _._ Hydra had nearly made him go back on that promise. _  
_

He'd almost killed Steven Rogers. Now he had to atone for it by being  ready to jump do whatever it took to keep him alive the next time he went up against an enemy; be it Hydra or some other organization that had an array of dangerous devices and people at their disposal. _  
_

He owed Steve that the least. The scrawny punk from Brooklyn, Captain America had saved his life _._

Now Bucky needed to make sure there was someone out there to save him. Many things had changed in seventy years, but one thing hadn't; Steve still didn't know how to walk away from a fight. _  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	6. Six

The smell of the hospital was like a strange cross between stainless steel and Germ-X hand sanitizer. The scent was familiar, homey and cleared Melody's head. West Memorial was home. Not that haunted mansion back in the woods.

"Doctor Frasier!" Melody turned at being addressed and saw Becky, her favorite scrub nurse hurrying towards, pale blue scrubs indicating she was part of the float pool today. The color matched the beads she'd put into her braided hair. "What are you doing here? You have the day off."

"I'm just checking on a patient Becky," Melody said with an exasperated sigh as the nurse fixed her with a stern look. "Sam Wilson? The one who came in yesterday afternoon with the gunshot wound?"

"In his arm," Becky argued. "It was barely a graze. There was no reason to keep him overnight."

"With the symptoms of a concussion?" Melody lied. "He was out of it, I didn't want to send him home until I was sure he was out of the woods."

"I say he's fine," Becky argued with a roll of her eyes. "You are the most paranoid doctor I've ever met Mel."

"I'm through," she argued. And you would keep him overnight too if you knew that he was dealing with Hydra agents! Who knows what they put on their weapons? But of course, there was so way Melody was going to tell Becky that her patient was none other than the Falcon. She'd agreed a long time ago to keep Sam Wilson's secrets-along with the rest of the Avengers and the agents they worked with.

She couldn't begin to count the number of times she'd stitched Sharon back together. Her kitchen island in her apartment was used less for cooking and more for an operating table and the same held true for the pantry. There was more gauze and bandages in there than actual food.

"Paranoid," Becky argued as she tucked a stray cornrow back behind her ear. "Well I won't stop you-besides, he might be happy to see you again."

Melody rolled her eyes as her friend winked. "I don't think so. He's scared of me."

"No," Becky corrected. "The interns are scared of you. Sam seems to respect you."

Melody laughed. "You're right on the interns and they are wise. Because if they manage to hurt any of my patients while I'm off or mess up my ER they will not see the inside of an operating room for a month."

"Melody there is no one is this hospital stupid enough to mess up the ER of Doctor 'Freezer'," Becky teased. "And speaking of the ER, I'm officially off break and need to get back. See you Tuesday!"

Melody chuckled at the use of her nickname. Her interns had given it to her back when she was a first-year resident and the name had stuck with her long after. Even now, as the Head of Trauma it was still common to hear the phrase tossed about with interns and a well-meaning co-worker.

Melody followed the familiar route to Sam's room and knocked on the door as nurses and doctors moved about the halls, some at faster paces than others as they answered calls and cared for their charges.

"Knock, knock," Melody said as she entered Sam's room.

"Mel!" he said with a cheerful grin, the white gauze stark against the dark skin of his arm. "Aren't you supposed to behave like a normal person and sleep in on a day off?"

"I'm a doctor Sam," she said. "I'm used to operating at weird hours remember?" She undid her jacket and set it in the chair along with her purse. "How are you feeling?"

"Fit as a fiddle and ready to get my discharge papers."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Impatient as ever Sam, can't you just wait until the doctor says you can leave?"

Sam regarded her. "You're going to tell me I can leave?"

"No." Melody reached into her pocket and pulled out her light. "Open your eyes."

"Mel, they did this already."

"Oh," she put the light back in her pocket. "Hold still-."

"They checked the wound to and already changed the dressing. It is clean."

"No-."

"No signs of infection, or irritation other substances that would suggest there was something on the weapon I was hit with. I am fine." Sam recited the answers to the questions Melody had not asked with a bored expression. "I am fine. Can I leave?"

Melody looked around and dropped her voice. "Do you have mind-reading abilities along with that suit?"

Sam laughed. "Nah, I'm not that impressive. I've just seen you at work enough to know what happens. I mean when you got a hold of Cap after he was pulled out of that river-."

Sam's words were cut off as shouting along with the shrill wail of sirens echoed around the ER.

"What's going on?" she exclaimed, grabbing Freddy Gril, one of the first year interns.

"Three car pile up," he said, panting, dark eyes wide with fear and excitement. "We need all hands on deck."

"Shit," Melody turned her head back a moment to look at Sam. "Sorry to cut this short, I've got work to do."

"This is your day off!" Sam called watching with mild interest as the ER got ready to handle the aftermath of the accident.

"Not anymore!"

And Melody sprinted out of the room and towards the lockers. She'd never been so grateful she kept a spare set of scrubs at work. Something told her that her pager was going to go off any moment. Day off or not, trauma's didn't stop because she was gone and if the chaos around her was anything to judge by, this accident was going to leave a hell of alot of trauma in it's wake.

"New mother," Melody muttered as she skidded into the elevator. "Knock-knock jokes," the words brought back memories of Vanessa Cole. She'd been eight months pregnant and hit by a car. The damage had been extensive, broken bones, internal bleeding and lacerations covering most of her body. She'd made it.

If she could make it, if Melody had been able to save Vanessa and her baby Melody and her fellows had a chance to save those who'd been in the crash today.

The words on the key chain echoed in Melody's mind again.

"He who saves one life saves the world in time."

Let's hope it's not just one life today, she thought as she grabbed the clothes and heard her phone go off in her back pocket. She grabbed it and glanced once at the number, it was West Memorial Hospital.

Melody slipped into a stall to change clothes; it was time to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sorry about the weird formatting from earlier. I've resolved it now.


	7. Seven

_"Steve," his voice was weak, hoarse and the air was cold against his throat. Bucky's entire body was burning with cold. He wanted to move, had to move, but he couldn't make his limbs obey. "Steve!" Bucky called again, his voice stronger this time and he pushed against the blackness around his body, forcing his eyes open and what greeted him was unfamiliar._

_It was snowing. Wherever he was, it was covered in several feet of snow. Trees, hills and whatever else was there were all coated in the same fluffy white covering._

_That explained the cold at least. It was winter._

_He blinked, watching the white flakes fall from the sky and onto him. Darkness threatened to overwhelm him once again, but Bucky pushed it back. He had to stay awake. He knew that. He didn't know much else right then, save the pain he was in, but he knew he could not fall asleep. If he shut his eyes now, Bucky knew he'd never wake up. He just had to hold on long enough for someone to find him or until he could reach a location where such a thing was possible._

_He was not doing to die here, he couldn't._

_He would survive, he wasn't sure how. But he'd make it. Bucky tried to move again this time with some success, he managed to move his neck to the left, but whatever feeling of success he could have felt was short-lived at the grisly sight before him._

_He left arm was gone and the snow beside it was stained red.  
_

_There was a crunch of snow breaking underfoot and Bucky heard a voice then, one he hadn't heard before. "Well, what do we have here?"_

Bucky shot up, heart slamming against his ribs as he looked around, frantic as his mind registered where he was. He was not back in Russia, it was not snowing. In fact he was indoors. A living room. Arnim Zola was nowhere near him. The sadistic scientist had been dead for decades.

 _A couch,_ he realized, pushing his sweat-dampened hair from his eyes. _I'm on a couch.  
_

It took another moment, but then the events of the previous night came back. He was at a safe house. A safe house that belonged to Melody Frasier, she was a friend of Steve's. As if on summoned, there was a clicking of shoes on hardwood and Doctor Frasier came into view. In absence of her usual clothing she was wearing pale blue scrubs and a long-white sleeved shirt. Her short blonde hair was mussed and Bucky frowned upon seeing it. 

Something had happened.

"Where were you? You said you were visiting someone this morning," he glanced at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock now. "And you've been gone for hours."

"I did visit a patient," the doctor replied through a yawn as she strode over and flopped onto the opposite chair. "But then work called me in."

"Why?" The reason why didn't interest Bucky in the slightest, but he still wanted to talk. Speech was noise, a conversation required thinking and it didn't allow for memories to grab hold. 

Doctor Frasier looked at him with unnerving green eyes. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

"You're not answering my question." 

Bucky bristled. "You didn't answer mine either."

"You're question is less important." The doctor replied, folding her hands in front of her. "Mine concerns your welfare which, seeing as you are my patient, is far more important."

"I'm not your patient," Bucky growled. "And answer my question, why did your work suddenly need you? You told Sharon you had the day off? Did you lie to her?" His tone grew sharp at the end. Though he didn't know Sharon well, he knew enough of her to respect her. What was more, if what she'd said was true, Steve respected her as well and cared about her just as much. That was enough to make Bucky care if someone was trying to manipulate her.

Sharon said Doctor Frasier could be trusted, but Bucky wasn't going to be so quick to believe that. Friendship was an incredible thing, but even those bonds could be broken.

Hydra had taught him that.

"You _are_ my patient," Doctor Frasier replied. "Or you will be. If you ever need medical attention I will be your only option. So as far as I am concerned, you are my patient. Therefore, your health and well-being is my main concern. Mental health is part of that you know."

"Answer my question."

"Answer mine and I will answer yours."

Bucky fell back against the couch, teeth grinding together and he crossed his arms in silent refusal. His nightmares were his memories and his concerns. Whatever schooling this doctor had would never be of any use to understand any of it.

No one could understand. It was impossible. All those apologies, all those assurances that it gets better and other well-meaning sentiments wanted to make him puke. They were words. Words didn't matter. Words did nothing. They were useless.

"Fine," the doctor yawned. "Are you hungry at least? You look like you could use a good meal. I know I could." She robbed her stomach which growled loudly in the quiet. "Sharon stocked the place before we came here, she knows where I keep the key." 

Doctor Frasier stood up, stumbling slightly and shook her head, as though warding off the sensation. "Damn, did I eat this morning?" she glanced at Bucky who glared back, unsure if she was seeking an answer or not. 

"You had coffee," he muttered after several seconds passed where she did not look away. "But I didn't see you eat after that."

"Shit, no wonder I feel so terrible." She walked by, apparently intent on the kitchen. "My blood sugar must be awfully low by now."

There was  clatter of dishes and other glassware hitting the counter and Bucky heard the doctor shout, asking if he had an allergy to peanuts.

He ignored the request and rubbed at his eyes which were still heavy with exhaustion. Arnim Zola's words replayed over in his mind again. _What do we have here?  
_

What he'd found was a dying man.

What he'd built out of that man had been the world's best weapon. _  
_

How could he tell anyone about it? How he could relive it by talking about it? There wasn't a way to do either of those things and so Bucky was determined to keep quiet. There was no point in talking. Words didn't change what had happened, words didn't change what was and that was all there was to it.

"Here," Doctor Frasier returned and set down a plate with a sandwich on it. A crystal glass followed which had been filled with water. "And since you didn't answer me, I assume you aren't allergic to nuts?"

"No." 

"Good!" the doctor said brightly, taking a bite of her own food, carefully balancing the china plate with her other hand. "If what I brought isn't enough just dig around in the kitchen, Sharon thought of everything. Of course I didn't expect less from her. She's thorough."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, grabbing the glass and downing some water. "She is." Bucky offered nothing more and neither did Doctor Frasier and he sighed internally as he saw the conversation was over.

He didn't need to talk anymore, he was awake. And the ghosts in his head were silent-for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	8. Eight

The night outside grew black and Bucky hadn't moved from his seat since then. He couldn't find the will to do so.

Before, after seeing Steve again, after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell his motivation to move had been survival. To stay ahead of the police, stay ahead of S.H.I.E.LD. and stay out of prison. And even more, stay out of Hydra. If the world knew where the Winter Solider was, the organization that created him would know too.

That need, the need to survive and the need to get his memories back had kept him moving.

Now he had a place to hide. Two people knew where he was and neither had any plans to betray that knowledge. He didn't have to run anymore. And he didn't need to learn who he was either. He knew that now.

He knew who James Buchanan Barnes was. He remembered him.

The carefree man who was content to run amok about New York City with his scrawny punk of a best friend. A man who bought into the propaganda of the war and later learned the cold truth. A man who'd become a Howling Commando, who would have followed Captain America to the ends of the Earth. Then he fell from the train. 

Then he became the Winter Solider. A machine. Mindless and methodical in caring out whatever he was programed to do.

Now he was neither of those people. James Barnes had been too soft. James Barnes knew about the monsters in the world, but not about the ones that lived inside himself. The Winter Solider had no mind, no compassion, no mercy or any feelings to speak of.

Now Bucky wasn't either of those men. He knew about the evil that lived inside one person, that lived inside himself. He knew what he was capable of doing, but now he had emotions. He had a moral compass again.

He was between them now.

No longer the Winter Solider and no longer James Barnes. He was somebody else now.

Bucky just had no idea who that was.

"Hey," he looked up, snapped out of his thoughts and saw Doctor Frasier standing beside him, a small notebook in her hand. "Take this."

"What?"

She shoved the notebook and a pen into his hands, ignoring his surprised exclamations and questions.

"What?" he said again, glaring the doctor who'd changed into a grey sweatshirt and jeans rather than the scrubs she'd returned in.

"That's for you," she informed him, taking her earlier spot on the chair and producing another notebook, this one black from the pocket of her sweatshirt.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" The cover was leather of some kind, smooth underneath the hand that was still flesh and blood. The metal hand couldn't feel much. Pressure but nothing specific like textures or temperature.

"Write in it," the doctor replied as though it was obvious. She pulled a pen from her hair which fell about her shoulders in soft waves.

"Write in it?" Bucky repeated. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" She clicked the pen and opened her own notebook. "You've made it clear to me that you do not want to discus your nightmares or what you've gone through. I respect that. I understand, your past is your business and whatever you're feeling is your business too. You don't have to talk to anyone about it until you feel ready to do that."

She frowned then, closing the notebook with a snap and tucking the pen behind her ear. "But, it is incredibly harmful to your mental and emotional well-being to keep everything inside your head. Hence the notebook. Write things down. Get it out of your head. You don't have to worry about hiding them, you have my promise that I'll never read any of it."

"You're kidding."

"No, I really will never look at your journals."

"That's not what I meant," Bucky said flatly. "I mean about the journals themselves. You cannot expect me to write in this." He waved the notebook she'd handed him to further his point.

"Actually I can," she answered in calm tone. "As your doctor-."

"You aren't my doctor," Bucky growled, throwing the notebook to the table. The sound of the papers inside rattling were loud like the quiet house. It was enough to make the doctor jump a little.

"You aren't my doctor," he said again. "And I don't have to listen to you." His days of listening to orders were done. His days of letting doctors with questionable motives work on him were done.

"You don't," she agreed. Whatever signs of alarm Doctor Frasier had experienced had vanished. She was calm now. "But you'd be better for it if you did. From what I know of us," she stood up then, posture relaxed and her green eyes held his gaze with unflinching resolve. "I am the one who spent seven years of higher education to work as a doctor. With that job comes the sole purpose of keeping those entrusted to my care healthy and safe. I am an attending trauma surgeon at one of the best hospitals in this country and have held that position for the last five years which should be some indication that I am very good at that job. Looking at your current situation you would benefit from listening to me."

A half smile flitted across her face. "Just something to consider, if you need me I'll be up in my room."

Then she was gone, disappearing up the stairs and then Bucky was alone once again.

He stared at the notebook which was still on the coffee table and shook his head. Seven years of college meant nothing. Five years of field work meant nothing. Not when he looked at what Hydra did to him.

There was no training for that. Nothing Doctor Frasier had learned. Nothing she'd helped others deal with would help him. There was no point in even trying it. Bucky wasn't one for false hope, his life had taught him how fragile it was. Whatever you thought would or could help you probably couldn't. It was a fable people constructed as a way to deal with whatever hell came their way. And that hell became ten times worse when that fragile hope was ripped away and crushed by reality.

Bucky had dealt with that enough. He wasn't going to open up those old wounds again. He had enough that were still bleeding to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) And sorry for the lag between updates, life is nuts.


	9. Nine

_Redhead_

_Fleece_

_Gold Necklace_

Melody's black felt pen hovered over the surface of her notebook, and then fell back against her stomach. _I haven't seen many good things today._ Melody thought to herself as she recalled the gore she'd seen hours before.

Three families had been in that crash _,_ twelve people in total and only one of them had made it out alive. And even Addison Clark was still in critical condition _-_ she'd be lucky to live through the night _._

Melody shut her notebook and set it and the pen on her nightstand and grabbed the key chain off the space in the same motion.

"He who saves one life saves the world in time," Melody muttered to herself, tracing the words and holding the metal circle so tightly it made her hand hurt. The words didn't assure her now, as they usually did. Twelve people had come through her ER, twelve people in critical condition and eleven of those people had died on her watch.

She'd watched eleven people die today.

 _But you saved one._ The voice in the back of her head spoke, softly, but with authority. _You saved one person._

Melody felt tears prick her eyes and took a deep breath. Tears did nothing. Tears didn't bring back the dead. She knew that all too well.

_There was blood on her face. Hot, sticky and wet. There was something else too. Something spongy and pink, it wasn't blood. Melody didn't know what it was. She'd never seen it before._

"Breathe," Melody choked grabbing her hair and twisting it at the roots. The pain wasn't pleasant, but it was stimulating in a way that cleared her head. The feelings of the memory faded.

There was no blood on her face. Her face was clean.

"I need to sleep," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she heard the panicked voices press in on her mind. "And I won't be able to do that with all this noise."

Melody pulled herself out of bed and opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand. Inside, about fifteen notebooks greeted her eyes. The covers were different in colors and patterns and journals themselves were varying in size. However, the contents of each were all the same. They all followed the same pattern.

Melody smiled at them, feeling the negative swirl of emotions ebb away some what as she grabbed the pale green one with a button latch across the cover.  She undid the latch and laid back out onto her bed, snuggling underneath the covers and flipping open to the first page.

_Aidan Cole_

_Maggie Thatcher_

_Russel Barker_

It was a small list. It was three people,  but looking at their names brought a flood of memories back to Melody. All of these people had been trapped with her when Loki's army came through _._ Their building had partially collapsed as the aliens battled the Avengers and blocked the only exits.

So she, and thirty others had been trapped for eight hours and Melody had been the only doctor in the space in that span of time.

She'd never been so thankful she always carried suture kits in her purse. Sharon's constant brushes with Hydra had made that a necessity. And it had been that habit Melody had adopted that had allowed her to give Aidan Cole, Maggie Thatcher and Russel Barker medical care that had saved their lives.

It hadn't fixed everything, but it had kept them alive, kept them stable until help had arrived. She'd saved three lives in an impossible situation.

She'd had limited supplies, no proper sanitation, no way of knowing how long it would take to be recused and she'd pulled through. Melody had done her job.

"Look at the problem," she said to herself as she touched Aidan's name. He'd been the worst. Shrapnel in the gut.

His wife and child had been three feet away as Melody had worked to stabilize him. She barely remembered them. Just that they had been present, held back by her orders by some bystanders who'd been smart enough to take her advice.

If his wife and child had been any closer Melody would've snapped. Her control would have been lost and her hands would've been shaking too hard to even try and stitch the wounds together. She wouldn't have seen the problem, she would have seen the husband and father laying on the ground in front of her.

But it hadn't happened. She'd kept her head, her hands had stayed steady and able to work. And now Aidan was celebrating his daughter's seventh birthday. Melody remembered the card they'd sent her, the one with the photo of a little girl with pigtails  and a face smeared with icing.

Melody giggled at the memory. She still had the photo in her apartment, held by clip magnet on her fridge.

More memories came, filled with twisted steel, broken glass, cracked cement and blood. All horrible things, and yet the memories of that day, the memories of the battle for New York were good memories for Melody now. The memories of being trapped in that building, the memories of Aidan and his split open stomach, Maggie and her shattered leg, Russel and his lacerated torso-they all brought Melody some measure of peace.

Terrible as that day had been, terrifying as it all had been-they had survived. Melody had helped them survive it. She gave them their chance to hang on until they could get better help. She'd saved three people that day, despite how the odds had been stacked against them. Painkillers and makeshift shock blankets and a poorly constructed splint had saved Maggie. Sutures and gauze had saved Russel. Homemade bandages, sutures and sheer dumb luck had saved Aidan.

And that gave her hope.

Memories kept shifting over and over in Melody's head and then, like a warm blanket, sleep crept up on her and pulled her under it's embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	10. Ten

It didn't take long for Bucky to realize his current situation already had established several sets of patterns.

  
What felt like every night the ghosts came back for him and dragged him screaming from sleep. Doctor Frasier came not long after, inquiring whether or not he was alive and unhurt. She hadn't seemed to grasp that he wanted her to leave him be, despite how aggravated his answers became. Then, after a restless night, he'd drag himself to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee with Doctor Frasier before she went off to the hospital.  
Each night she'd return, sometimes later, sometimes by dinner and she'd throw something together for both of them before inquiring about the journal she'd instructed him to write in.

  
The answer was always the same, a stiff no. Bucky had never bothered to open the notebook once. It had somehow gotten back into his room, but he'd never put a word to the paper. He still didn't see the point though Doctor Frasier seemed intent on the whole thing.

Though the routines offered a great deal more peace than what he was used to, Bucky was getting thoroughly sick of some aspects and tonight was the final straw.

  
"Have you-?"

  
"No!" Bucky exploded, cutting off that annoying question before the doctor could even complete it. "No! I haven't written in that stupid notebook! And don't you dare try and tell me you're my doctor either!"

  
Everything fell on him then, his nightmares, his past actions, his current situation and all the pain and frustrations that came with it. He'd had enough. Bucky threw his hands out in front of him, needing some sort of outlet for the turmoil swirling inside. Both hands swept roughly across the coffee table and there was a crashing of glassware which was followed instantly by a stabbing pain in his right hand. He looked down instinctively and saw the knife he'd been using earlier slashed into his palm.

  
"Fuck," he growled, pressing his metal fingers to the wound to stem the blood flow.

  
"Don't do that."

  
Bucky looked up, distracted for a moment to look at Doctor Frasier. She was on her feet, carefully stepping around the shattered glass towards him.

  
"Stay away from me," he growled. "I'm fine."

  
"You could have glass in your hand too," was the curt reply. "And you need someone to check for that." She paused a moment and then spoke again. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen. I have what I need there and the light's better anyways."  
Bucky stood up and shoved passed her. He was going to rise out the gash and wrap it in a dishtowel. Anything else was unnecessary as far as he was concerned. He'd had worse before.

  
He flicked on the light in the gleaming kitchen and strode over to the sink, ignoring the perplexed look Doctor Frasier gave him as she dug through a cabinet underneath the island. What she was looking for exactly Bucky wasn't sure, but he was sure it had come from the hospital she worked at.

  
In the four weeks he'd been here, he'd noticed that Doctor Frasier always seemed to have a suture kit somewhere on her person. To him it was a weird habit, but he didn't comment on it. He carried a knife and gun everywhere he went, who was he to judge? He ran his bleeding hand underneath the faucet, watching as the water turned dark pink and swirled down the sink to the drain.

There was a slam of cupboard doors behind him and then he heard Doctor Frasier speak. "Let me see your hand."

"No."

  
"Excuse me?"

  
"No," Bucky repeated. "Do you need me to say it again in Russian? Or was the English version clear this time?"

  
"Turn around and show me your hand," the doctor repeated.

  
"Net," Bucky said, switching to Russian.

  
"James-."

  
"My name is Bucky," he snapped, turning off the water and wrapping the bloody towel back around the room.

  
"Whatever your name is you are acting like a child," Doctor Frasier said and Bucky felt a small hand grip his shoulder and yank him back. Ordinarily it wouldn't have moved him at all, but the unexpected gesture and strength behind it caught him off guard.

  
"Don't touch me!" He shrugged off her hand and tried to move past her, but the doctor blocked his way, arms crossed, suture kit in one hand and a scowl on her face.

"You can leave once you let me look at your hand. Look at how it's bleeding," she pointed to the towel which was turning red. "You need stitches."

  
"No I don't."

  
"Are you a doctor?" she demanded.

  
"No, but I am an internationally wanted assassin." Bucky answered, contempt dripping off every word. "Might be a good idea to get out of my way and leave me be."

  
The doctor's eyes flashed. "You do not scare me."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Really? Because I find that incredibly hard to believe." Over two dozen confirmed political kills and countless more low-profile victims. Gun, knife, bare-hands-all had been used to kill and Bucky could still use all them with maximum efficiency. His metal arm could rip off car doors. Hydra's brainwashing was still rolling around in his head, easily triggered the moment the words were spoken.

He was afraid of himself. The idea that the blonde doctor wasn't of the same opinion was laughable.

  
Doctor Frasier shrugged, the picture of calm and ease. "You do not scare me," she said again. "Now let me see your hand."

  
Bucky ignored the request. "You're a bad liar Doctor Frasier."

  
Her mouth quirked upwards and her voice was hard when she spoke again. "Did you want to kill all those people?"

  
The abrupt shift in conversation rattled Bucky's temper. Had Sharon broken her promise and kept Melody in the dark about what had happened to him? About why he'd committed all those crimes? "No! Why would I? Why would anyone want to do the things I did? Hydra-!"

  
"You didn't chose to kill them," Doctor Frasier cut across him. There was a sort of fire in her eyes, it unsettled Bucky. He'd never seen it before. Doctor Frasier was always calm, always sure, but now she looked unsteady. "You never had a choice about the things you did, did you? Some mad scientist rewired your brain and made it so you never had a choice in it, didn't they?"

  
Doctor Frasier was half shouting now, her voice echoing off marble counter tops. That spark was still there in her eyes, adding to the out of control image she was projecting. "You never had a choice did you?" She demanded, glaring at him. "Did you have a choice?"

  
"No!" Bucky shouted back, feeling strength surge through his metal arm. He adjusted his stance as best he could, he didn't want to break the sink or something. "Why do you care about that anyway? I still did all of it!"  
That was what it all came down to. He hadn't wanted to do any of it. It hadn't been his will that carried out any of the missions. And yet...he'd still done it. It had been his hands that held the knife, his finger had been on trigger and the blood had been on his hands.

  
Choice had no place in the fact that people were still dead because of him.

  
"You never would have chosen to do any of it if you'd had any say in the matter," Doctor Frasier replied, voice cold and sharp as steel. "That's why I care. Men who chose to do evil deeds-they're monsters. They are the things that terrify me. Men who never get a choice? They are the ones I pity. They're as much a victim as anyone affected. Now hold out your hand, hold still and let me do my fucking job."

  
She ripped open the suture kit with expert hands, her long, pale fingers sure and practiced as they worked to prepare her equipment. The anger and unsteadiness that had been coursing through her a moment before was gone-or so it seemed. She still had a sort of fire in her green eyes. Not the unstable anger that had been there moments before, but Bucky knew this one just as well.

  
He'd just seen it on the face of a different person. A young man back in Brooklyn.The look said clearly: "I could do this all day" and Bucky gave up the fight.

When Doctor Frasier reached out with her free hand for his bleeding one Bucky didn't try to shrug off her grip and didn't resist as she began to pick at the wound with a tweezers. As it turned out, the wound had been holding several long splinters of glass and crockery. Melody had been right.

  
When she checked the wound again, she appeared satisfied there was no more glass and set the tweezers down on the counter."I think I was wrong," the doctor said quietly. "I won't need to stitch then, but it does need to be wrapped up. Hold still, this won't take long."With practiced ease, Doctor Frasier spread some sort of antiseptic across the wound and then bound it with a bandage. The whole process took a grand total of five minutes and she paused only one moment to inspect her handiwork before letting go of his hand and throwing the bloody shards and towel into the trash.

"Be careful with that hand for a few days okay? It needs to scab over, keep it clean and for the love of God next time don't be so difficult."

  
She walked away then, grabbing the broom from the corner and Bucky heard the chink of glass sweeping across the floor. She was cleaning up his mess.  
_I think I know why Steve trusts you, he thought as he stared at his newly bandaged hand. He found someone just like him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry about the lag between updates, haven't been as active on here as on other sites. I'll be updating this fic every day until it's completed now!


	11. Eleven

When Bucky stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, sleep deprived and with an aching hand he noticed a change in the setting. The smell of coffee was still permeating the air and Melody was already offering him a cup of it, same as always, but today Sharon Carter had joined them.

"Agent Carter," Bucky commented taking a careful sip of coffee. "What are you doing here?"

"Besides making sure Mel eats actual food?"

The doctor's gaze narrowed. "What do you call coffee then?"

"Important," Sharon replied. "But not a replacement for actual nutrients." She handed the doctor a small brown paper bag. "There is a muffin in here and I expect it-."

There was a subtle beeping that interrupted the agent's sentence and Doctor Frasier pulled out her pager.

"Shit, hate to eat and run, gotta go!" And she hurried out the door, forgetting the pastry bag Sharon had tried to give her.

"Mel!" The agent called after her friend but the roar of the car engine covered up the sound of her voice. "Ugh!" She groaned at the retreating cloud of dust. "She had better eat lunch today!"

Bucky frowned. "She skips lunch?" Bucky had never seen her eat breakfast either, so if what Sharon said was true, the doctor had very unhealthy eating habits.

Sharon shrugged. "Not intentionally, she just forgets."

"How can you forget to eat?" Bucky was familiar with hunger, his first few weeks running had left him well-aquatinted with the gnawing, empty feeling. Hydra had done many terrible things to him, but starvation wasn't one. They needed him to be strong.

Sharon shrugged. "Mel has a one-track mind. Whatever she's focused on, she'll give it everything she has. And by extension, ignore everything else around her. It's good for when she's elbow deep into people's bodies but not for personal care."

Bucky didn't know how to respond to that so he drank more coffee. He hasn't slept last night either. His nightmares had left him waking up covered in cold sweat and screaming.

The noise had brought Doctor Frasier to him with her usual question of "are you alive". The question still irked him.

He hadn't slept well after that, and he felt it now in his itchy eyes and heavy limbs. Coffee helped with that and thankfully, Doctor Frasier's kitchen was never short of it.

"Why are you here?" He asked finally, draining the last of the bitter black liquid. "Did Doctor Fraiser-?"

"Mel," Sharon corrected. "Call her Mel, everyone does. She needs to be Mel here, she's Doctor Frasier all day long."

"Fine, Mel," Bucky amended. Why she went by that name he couldn't guess, it sounded ugly to him. "Did Mel ask you to come here?"

Sharon shook her head. "No, I came here on my own account. Last time we talked she seemed upset with you."

Bucky's hands curled into fists. "I never touched her." He was a lot of things, but he wasn't mindless. Not anymore and he'd never hurt anyone unless they tried to hurt him first. Doctor Frasier, pushy as she was, had never attempted to harm him and so, he had no reason to hurt her.

"I know, but you were being an ass and you need to stop it. Mel's risking a lot to help you and she's doing it because that's the sort of person she is. Don't throw it back in her face by refusing to let her do what she does best."

Bucky flexed his wounded hand. He recalled the steely look in Mel's eyes the night before. The same one Steve got when he got behind a cause that mattered to him. "I don't mean to be rude," he said finally. "I'm not stupid. I know what she's risking to help me. It's just..." He trailed off, trying to find the right words as Sharon's disapproving gaze burned into him. Strange as it was, Bucky wanted the agent to approve of him. She was his only link to his best friend. In some odd way, he felt like if Sharon could find him to be a decent person, maybe Steve could too if they ever saw one another again. "It's pointless," he said finally. "She might be a good doctor, maybe even the best, but there is nothing she knows that can put me back together. There's nothing she can do, no matter how hard she tries."

Sharon gave him a grim smile. "Mel is the best trauma surgeon in New York-or at least I think so. And if anyone can help you, it's Mel. She's good at putting broken people back together."

"I'm not broken," Bucky said, hearing his voice bristle in defense. "And I don't doubt Doc-Mel, would give me her best effort, it just won't be enough."

Sharon put up her hands in a surrender-type gesture. Then she ran a hand down her face a half a second later, a curious expression crossing her face.

"What do you know about Mel?"

"She's a trauma surgeon at the hospital." Buck said instantly. She never let him forget that fact. "And this is her house and she drinks coffee every morning before work and writes in journals."

Sharon nodded, apparently more to herself than to Bucky. "So she never told you this was her parents house first did she?"

"No. Is that important?" Parents left their children houses all the time in wills and inheritance. Why would it matter if Melody has inherited this place?

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Want to know why she got it?"

Bucky didn't answer, but Sharon continued anyway.

"Her father, John Fraiser, he was a surgeon too. Cardio, not trauma but he was...He was the best. He was a genius, a complete cardio genius and no one argued that. His techniques are still taught in schools today."

"He made good money then," Bucky reasoned. "Wanted to provide for his daughter. Make sure she never had to worry about having a place to live. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," was Sharon's instant reply. "My aunt Peggy would have done the same for me, if she'd had the means. But that isn't why she owns this place. Not even close."

"Then what is? Did her father not want her to go to medical school and it drove a rift between them and she moved out?"

"John never saw Mel go to medical school. He never saw her in high school either." Sharon sighed and Bucky was shocked to see her eyes were tearing up. "Upstairs, in the master bedroom, John Frasier shot himself in he head."

Bucky's stomach twisted hearing that. Murder was one thing, suicide was another. Murder was someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone who was targeted by another person, maybe and taken out.

Suicide was inborn. Created by invisible hurts of the mind and soul that left people without hope. Loosing anyone to something like that would devastate anyone. Loosing a father sounded even worse.

"It gets better," Sharon remarked, taking in his expression. "Melody was in the room with him when he did it. She watched him do it. Her mother found her covered in blood and brain matter, screaming for her father as she tried to stop the bleeding. It was completely hopeless of course, but how could a little kid know that?"

Bucky didn't know how to respond to that. "How, how old was she when...?"

"She had just turned twelve." 

Sharon ignored Bucky's horrified expression. Twelve? Twelve years old and she saw that? Twelve years old and she watched her father kill himself?

"Her mother, Moria, she didn't take the loss well. She drowned her sorrow and loss in Merlot. She stopped being Mel's mom after John died. She made sure she was fed and clothed, but she...she was never a mother again. No affection, no support, no involvement of any kind in her life."

Bucky's hand curled around his empty cup. "That sounds...awful." Bucky couldn't imagine being that young and that alone. He couldn't imagine the sort of strength it had taken to pull herself together after something that terrible and he couldn't imagine doing it alone.

And Mel apparently had done exactly that. She'd watched her father die, lost her mother to grief not long after and been no more than a child. And she'd pulled herself off the ground, somehow and built a life for herself.

Sharon nodded. "I agree. Anyways, when Mel turned eighteen, her mother transferred ownership of this place and the land to her. Moria couldn't get rid of the house, one of her last links to her beloved husband, but she didn't have the strength to keep it either.She traced the rim of her own mug with her index finger. "Mel has the same problem, she can't get rid of it either, it was the last place she had a family. But it was also the place her entire life fell apart right underneath her."

Bucky didn't offer a comment. His mind was still reeling. He'd thought, since the moment he'd met Doctor Frasier that she's led a charmed life. That she had possessed everything anyone could have wanted. That she'd never known real hardship or pain. And now that image has turned into dust right before his eyes.

"So," the agent continued. "Imagine, just how hard it is for her, to come back here every night after stitching people back together all day, and watching some die even, despite her best efforts to save them. Imagine how that is for her, to see all that and then come back to the place where her family was destroyed in a matter of seconds."

Bucky found he couldn't look Sharon in the eye. "I can't imagine."

"Neither can I," agreed Sharon. "So next time she tries to help you, be it by bandaging a wound," she gestured to his hand. "Or talking you down after a panic attack-let her. She knows what she's doing."

Bucky didn't respond and Sharon seemed to be delighted by that fact. She glanced down at her watch and looked back up at him, smiling widely which was a sharp contrast to the gruesome conversation they'd been having five seconds prior.

"I've got some work of my own to cover," Sharon said. "Think about what I said alright? Mel's a good person and an even better doctor. If anyone can help you with what you're dealing with, it's her."

Bucky nodded, not even thinking about what he was doing. "Noted," he muttered. "Bye Agent Carter, be safe."

"Call me Sharon," the woman replied. "I need a place where I can just be Sharon, same as Mel needs a place to be Mel."

The agent drained the last of her coffee and shrugged on her jacket. "I'll see you around Bucky. Take care of yourself."

"I'll try," he promised as the agent left and as soon as the door clicked shut, Bucky was alone in the Frasier house once again.

It was different this time though, because now he knew what the house actually was.

It was a safe place for him, yes, but lives had been destroyed here as well. A family had been destroyed.

And one member of that family returned to it anyway because she was trying to help someone else.

Someone who'd been a complete ass to her the entire time.

 _I owe her an apology, B_ ucky thought. _A huge one. But where am I supposed to start?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I know I said updates once a day, but given how long it's been between updates, I thought to do a double-one this time! Thank you for reading and please do comment/review if you can spare the time! I'd love to hear from you! Thanks for reading! :)


	12. Tweleve

"Bucky?"

Melody's voice sounded through the house and Bucky felt his nerves reach a fever pitch.Ever since his talk with Sharon this morning he'd been up most of the day, trying to think of a way to apologize to Melody for his behavior. He hadn't been able to think of any that would actually make a difference, but he decided to settle for a peace offering at the very least. Which was exactly why, rather than waiting for her in the living room or being upstairs in his bedroom, as he usually was, Bucky was in the kitchen making pancakes. He hadn't forgotten what Sharon said about her friend constantly forgetting to eat. A lot of things about the new world confused Bucky, but he was pretty sure food was still a good example of wanting a truce.

"In the kitchen," he replied, thankful his voice sounded normal. "I made dinner if your hungry."

The doctor came into view, her short hair held back by a clip and a confused expression on her face. "This looks more like breakfast to me," she replied, standing against the island and peering over at the  stove where several pancakes were cooking on a skillet.

Bucky shrugged. "I can't really cook. But I just thought...well you didn't eat this morning as far as I know and then you were at work all day after that. I thought it'd be nice for you to come home to something for a change."

Melody blinked, her long eyelashes dusting her cheekbones. "Um, thanks."

Bucky looked away, feeling a blush flood his cheeks. "Please, don't feel obligated, like I said, I can't really cook."

She offered him a shy sort of smile. "No, it actually looks good and I am starving."

"Did you eat today?"

"I had a granola bar."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"You know," Bucky said. "For a doctor you don't seem to have very healthy habits." He didn't know a great deal about nutrition but he was sure a granola bar did not have enough calories for someone with an active lifestyle like Melody appeared to have.

Melody shrugged and set her purse on the island. "It is what it is, I'm not starving and I do eat better on my days off. They're less crazy."

"Less crazy?" Bucky repeated, flipping the pancakes over onto a plate.

"Don't believe me?"

"No."

One of her pale eyebrows rose up. "Why not?"

"You're a medic for secret agents, the Avengers and you're hiding a fugitive in your house." Bucky kept his tone blank, watching as amusement flickered across Melody's face.

"Fine, you have a point," she said, strolling over to the cabinets and grabbing a plate. "But I'm used to it. It's just part of my normal now."

Bucky had no idea how secret agents, the Avengers and wanted criminals could possible fit underneath the umbrella of the word "normal". Bucky was no expert on normal but he was certain none of that fit.

Melody stabbed a fork into a few pancakes and slipped them onto her plate. She moved passed Bucky then, taking her usual seat at the island and without bothering to use a fork, picked up one of the pancakes and took a bite out of it.

"Not bad," she approved after a moment.

"Thanks," Bucky said, shrugging. "Do you want anything to drink? Or syrup?"

"Drink yes, syrup no." Her nose wrinkled. "That's horrible for you. It's pure sugar."

"You don't like sugar?" Bucky asked, grabbing a glass from the sink and filling it with water.

Wordlessly he handed it off to Melody who downed half the contents. "No, I do like sugar, but not when it's like that. When it's so artificial like that, it's too sweet."

"I see," Bucky said without honesty. He had no idea what Melody was talking about. Not sure how to continue, he picked up a pancake as well and nibbled tentatively on it. It didn't taste like anything really, but it wasn't horrible.

A long, strained silence stretched between them then and it set Bucky's teeth on edge. He was never going to get an apology out at this rate.

Finally, he grit his teeth and spoke again. "How did you end up doing all this?"

"What?"

"The way you work with Sharon and all of them, how did it happen?"

Melody's eyes grew wide. "Well, Sharon and I have known each other a long time. We met when I was in college. She was undercover at the school and we were roommates I didn't know she was an agent then, but even with that secret we still became good friends. After she left, we stayed in touch. I didn't know anything about S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers until three years ago."

"What changed?"

"Sharon showed up on my front door with a knife wound in her stomach," Melody said with a matter-of-fact tone that didn't match the grisly scene she was painting. "She couldn't go to a hospital as they thought Hydra had agents there and they'd have killed her, so she came to me."

"And you didn't ask questions?" That didn't match up with his image of Doctor Frasier at all. She was incredibly pushy with him. It didn't make sense that she'd let Sharon go so easily.

"Not right away," she said, moving onto a second pancake. "But when she had her strength back I grilled her for answers. And since I had saved her life, I got them. And when she went back out into the field I told her, if she ever needed me again, to call me and I'd be there."

"And she's made use of that then? She's called you?"

"Yes. After Steve..." she trailed off. "Ran into you the first time, she called me.  I was the one who operated on him."

Bucky remembered that fight clearly. _"I'm with you til the end of the line"._ The sentence that had saved his life. The man who never walked away from a fight, had refused to fight him.

"He was okay wasn't he? I didn't...?"

"Steve was fine," Melody said instantly. "Any surgeon worth they're salt could have helped him. Sharon only called me because she needed someone who could keep a secret."

Bucky nodded. "And you're good at doing that."

Melody drank the last of her water. "How long did it take you to figure that one out?"

"About the same time I figured out that you're short."

Melody smiled at the jab. "You know, I'm smart too. So are you going to tell me why you did this?"

Bucky tried not to let the surprise show on his face. "I already did."

"No you didn't, you told me part of the truth, I think. You are trying to do something nice for me, but you're not saying why."

"Do people need a reason to be kind?" Bucky asked, hoping her apparent do-good nature would overshadow her suspicions.

"Yes."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Sharon talked with me after you left."

"And?"

"And she set me straight," Bucky answered. _I won't bring up her father,_ he decide. _Her past is her business. If she wants to tell me herself she will._ "I haven't been treating you fairly. You're risking alot to help me and I keep...being difficult every time you try and help me. Well, maybe 'difficult' is being generous," he admitted as he saw Melody's dry smile. "But either way I'm sorry for it. It's not right."

"I forgive you."

"What?" The word was out of Bucky's mouth before he could think.  She was letting him go? That easily? That made no sense.

"I forgive you. Do I need to say it Russian or does English work? I hope it does because my Russian is terrible."

Bucky grinned without humor as he recalled what he'd told her last night. "I still don't get it. I thought you'd make me work harder to earn your forgiveness."

"What's to forgive?" Melody asked, picking up her now empty plate and cup. "People lash out when they're wounded, it's what we do."

"I'm not wounded. Unless you count my hand but that's nothing."

"Bucky, I think you know as well as I do that not all wounds bleed."

The statement would have annoyed him yesterday. Now, knowing the truth about what Melody had lost in this house, it made the statement feel ominous.

"No," Bucky agreed. "They don't." A heartbeat passed and Bucky decided he had one more idea to show Doctor Frasier he wanted to turn over a new leaf. "Mel?"

She tensed at being addressed by her name. "Yes?"

"About that journal, I don't know where to start with it."

She smiled at him. "If you don't feel ready to start with what you're feeling, start with writing down what you remember, what your day to day life is like. Get in the habit and the reflections will follow not long after."

The doctor walked out of the kitchen, out towards the back door and she flashed Bucky one last smile. "Thanks for dinner."

"You're welcome." Bucky said, shrugging as she walked outside. What she was doing exactly he wasn't sure and he didn't think he needed to know. Maybe she needed some fresh air or felt too restless to sit still.

Either way it didn't concern him much just now, he decided he was going to take Doctor Frasier's advice. He still didn't think it would work for him, but what did he have to lose really?

Sharon's words from earlier rang in his head. _She knows what she's doing._

 _Maybe she does,_ Bucky thought as he walked out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. _Maybe she can help, maybe she can't. I don't know for sure, but it doesn't matter. I don't have anything to lose_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! They've reached a truce! Now let's see how long it'll last :P Thank you for reading! And as always, any feedback is welcome!


	13. Thirteen

Over the weeks that followed, Bucky established a new routine with Melody. She was still gone most days, but their morning coffee remained and a new thing was added. Bucky had taken to making her breakfast or sending food with her to work. Ever since Sharon had pointed out Melody's one-track mind Bucky has noticed the tendencies more and more. On days that were jam-packed with surgeries, Melody thought of little else and thus, excluded everything else in her life, including personal needs like eating. Bucky had actually taken to memorizing her schedule so he would know what days to remind her to eat as she tried to run out the door and towards her OR. On days that were calmer, Melody was better at looking after herself, but he still noticed that the tendency to devote herself entirely to those in her care, even at the expense of her own health never fully left.

He saw that every nearly every night. The routine was always the same. The ghosts swarming about his sleeping mind. Waking up in terror to escape them and then Melody inviting herself into the room with the same "are you alive" question.

Tonight was no different.

"Why do you always ask me that?" Bucky asked, teeth chattering as he tried to regain his breath. The corpses screams were still ringing in his head and made it hard to concentrate but the strangeness of the question was still stark enough to prompt a response. "It's a weird question."

"That's exactly why I ask," Melody replied, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. "Because I need you to respond." A heartbeat passed and then Melody spoke again. "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

She asked this every night now. She knew he was keeping his journals and now she seemed intent on getting him to talk about what happened.

Bucky shook his head. "No." He wasn't ready to talk about it, not yet. Hell, he hadn't even been able to write it down yet.

All he'd done was write down every memory he had. Everything Hydra had taken from him and everything he had now.

He was terrified he'd lose it all again.

But now he had a record. He had something where, a stranger wasn't telling him who he was, but he was telling himself. He had a way back.

"Alright." Unlike the journal, Melody didn't seem intent on pushing talking. Bucky had no idea why, but he was grateful either way.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Bucky muttered. He said that every night too. He knew how important sleep was and the fact that he was depriving Melody of it made him feel guilty. She had to stay well-rested and here she was wide awake and one o'clock in the morning and talking to him.

"You didn't," the doctor said with a shrug. Her oversized T-shirt moved with her, her scrawny shoulders looking even smaller than they were. "I was already up."

Bucky couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "What? Why?"

Melody pitched the bridge of her nose. "Couldn't sleep."

"Why?"

"Just couldn't sleep."

Bucky eyed her warily. "You've been pulling twelve hour shifts for the last three days. How are you not able to sleep after that?"

"Too much coffee probably," she said with a shrug. "Sharon always says I would put that stuff in an IV if I could."

Bucky smiled in spite of himself. "Would you?"

"Absolutely."

They both laughed quietly then and to his great surprise Bucky found that it wasn't forced on his part. He actually found the exchange funny.

"Thanks Mel," he muttered. "For everything."

She stood up, bare feet barely making noise against the wood floor. "It's nothing."

"You're a good doctor Mel," Bucky said, falling back against the mattress and giving her a tired grin. "You're a good person."

Melody's smile flickered a bit and a strand of her sleep mussed hair from her face. "Thank you. Are you gonna be alright?"

"Fine," Bucky said but he was pretty sure it was a lie. He was fine right now, that was true, but sleep would change that. The ghosts would come back the moment his eyes closed and he'd go back to being a shaking wreck once again.

"I'll be across the hall if you need me," Melody said then. Her usual words that ended their nightly exchange.

She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway and then Bucky was alone again.

He knew he wasn't going to fall asleep again. He never could.

***

After about an hour staring at the ceiling, Bucky decided to get up. Though it was still too early to do anything productive, maybe he could find something to occupy his time. He had noticed Melody had begun to amass a collection of medical journals on the table, perhaps there was something interesting in them.

Bucky's teeth began to chatter as he made his way down the hallway. His bed had been comfortably warm, but that was not the case in the rest of the house.

His shivering continued as he made his way down the stairs and when he crept into the living room, Bucky found there wasn't a blanket on the couch. Not that he was surprised as neither he nor Melody tended to use them.

It was the middle of summer so keeping out the cold wasn't a priority at the moment.

He walked in the dark, following the dim glow of the harvest moon towards the entryway closet. He wondered if perhaps there was a sweater or coat inside that he could throw on to keep out the chill.

He turned the handle which creaked in the quiet house and was greeted with an empty space. There didn't even appear to be a cobweb in there.

 _Great,_ Bucky thought, his jaw beginning to ache as he made his way towards the kitchen. Maybe he'd just make some tea or something to warm up. Melody had mentioned something like that once, how warm food or drink could warm up the body. He didn't remember what it was called but it didn't hurt to try it.

Bucky flipped on the kitchen light and heard a yawn that wasn't his.

His hand flew to the knife strapped to his thigh and every muscle in his body tensed as he readied for a fight. Someone had found him, somehow-.

"Put it down Bucky," Melody said, stiffing another yawn. "It's just me."

Bucky relaxed instantly and exhaled loudly. "What are you doing up? Do you realize how late it is?"

"It's actually early," Melody replied. "It's three in the morning."

"You should be sleeping."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "So should you."

"I don't have to go and perform surgery tomorrow."

"Neither do I. I have the day off remember?"

Bucky frowned and crossed his arms. "No, but even if you do, it's not healthy to be awake like this. You've barely slept at all over the last few days as it is."

Melody shrugged. "That's why God gave the world coffee."

Bucky shook his head. For a doctor she really had terrible habits. "I'm going back to bed." He couldn't stay down here with Melody looking over his shoulder. Besides, he was starting to miss his bed. At least that was warmer than the kitchen.

"Sleep well."

"You too," Bucky muttered back as he rubbed the back of his neck. He moved back into his room and curled up underneath the covers, keeping the lamp on to provide some light. Bucky still had no intention of going to sleep again. He wasn't ready to deal with his nightmares, but he decided it wouldn't kill him to write down what he'd seen downstairs.

He grabbed the leather journal Melody had given him and opened up to the first blank page.

_June 20th, three-thirty A.M._

_Another sleepless night with more of the same nightmares and I finally found out why Melody always asks me if I'm alive whenever I wake her up. As it turns out, her entire goal is to get a response from me and because the question is so bizarre that's what she gets when she asks._

Bucky paused, his pen hovering over the page. "She said she was already awake when I apologized for waking her up. I have to wonder why, I mean she's been working such long shifts this week, anyone would be exhausted from that. And on top of that Melody can fall asleep any where." It was a byproduct of her one-track mind, she also had a habit of neglecting sleep on occasion. To compensate, for that fact, she could fall asleep anywhere, and Bucky had seen it happen. He'd seen her sleep in the chair, on the couch and at the kitchen island respectively.

The idea that she struggled to sleep in a queen size bed with feather pillows and a duvet was hard to imagine.

Suddenly, in the middle of all of his musings, Melody's voice came to mind. " _Get in the habit and reflections will follow after."_

And for the second time that night, Bucky smiled and it was out of real feeling. Melody had been right. He'd gotten in the habit of recording his day to day life and memories from his former life and now, without even trying to, he was able to think back on them.

The doctor had been right. Impossible as it had seemed to Bucky before, now he saw the truth of it. Getting the day to day events out of his head had allowed him to make sense of them _._ Maybe it could work with his past too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thanks to whoever it was that left a "kudos" on this work, I don't know who you are, but that was really nice to see! As always, I do love reviews so if you can spare the time please leave one! Thanks for reading!


	14. Fourteen

"Morning," Bucky greeted Mel same as every morning and despite his tiredness, he felt cheerful. She'd been right, the reflections had come after getting in the habit of writing in the journal all the time.  Whether or not it was actually going to help him deal with everything in his head was yet to be determined, but Mel had been right once. Who's to say she wouldn't be again?

"Morning," her own reply was much stiffer, almost irritated and it didn't go unnoticed by Bucky as she handed him a cup of coffee.

"You alright?" Bucky asked, but even as he looked up at her, he realized how truly stupid that question was.

Mel looked terrible. Her hair was thrown haphazardly into a messy twist. She'd missed several strands and they were falling into her very pale face. Her eyes were glossy and she had bags underneath her eyes that suggested she hadn't slept all night.

"Are you feeling okay? You look sick."

The doctor ran a shaking hand down her face. "I'm fine."

"Did you sleep last night? After I woke you up I mean."

"I told you I was awake before that." Her voice was sharp, irritated.

"Yeah, I know," Bucky said, not believing a word of it. Her crazy hours at work and the stress of it were physically and mentally wearing. The idea she'd be unable to sleep after all of that made no sense to him. "But I mean after I saw you last, when I came downstairs, did you ever get up to bed?"

Melody yawned. "No."

"Why not?"

"I told  you before, I couldn't sleep."

Bucky regarded her skeptically. "Why?"

"Because I couldn't sleep, not really much of an answer," she shrugged. "But I don't have anything else to offer."

Bucky still wasn't sure she was being honest but he let it go. She already seemed annoyed for whatever reason and he wasn't eager to be the one to flip the switch from annoyed to enraged.

"Is Sharon coming over today?" he asked. "She hasn't been around for awhile."

Melody shrugged. "I don't know-I just hope she doesn't show up with a bullet in her shoulder like last time."

Bucky choked on his coffee. "What now?"

"Last time I had a day off and Sharon made a surprise visit she was injured and I got to patch her up."

"So even on your day off you were a doctor huh?"

"I might not wear my scrubs all the time," Mel replied. "But I never stop being a doctor."

"Isn't it bad not to have a separation?" Bucky asked, recalling Sharon's words to him when she told him about Mel's father _._ Sharon had said she was a doctor all day long, watching people die or struggle with a crippling wound of some kind. According to Sharon, she needed a place to just be Mel. He agreed with that, Bucky knew nothing about medicine, but he had no doubt it was stressful.

She needed a place to get away from that stress and part of that, Bucky was sure, was turning in the scrubs for a while and just being a person instead of a doctor.

"If there was an operation to remove that doctor bit from me I'd perform it or find someone that could. But there isn't so here I sit." Mel took another long drink of coffee.

"Don't they teach you how to do that? Separate your work life from your personal life?"

"Yeah but I don't have a personal life. Just ask my scrub nurses."

"Scrub nurses?"

"They're part of my surgical team," Mel explained. "We're pretty close I guess. Becky's life's ambition is get to go to Hoppers and join some of the others for bowling night."

"That sounds like fun," Bucky commented. "So why don't you go with?"

Mel ran her index finger around the rim of her cup and her tired eyes were far off and unfocused. "I don't really do that kind of stuff."

"Why not? You're young, you should be out doing that kind of stuff, enjoying life and everything that comes with it."

Mel began laughing, the sound like a bell and it startled Bucky. Though he'd been living with her for nearly a month he had never heard the sound before. Her sleepy eyes sparkled like emeralds as she laughed and it took a few moments before she had control of herself again.

"What's so funny?" Bucky asked.

"You just reminded me of someone is all."

"Who?"

"A patient I had back when I was an intern," she answered, eyes still sparkling with an echo of laughter. "It was Christmas, six o'clock or a bit after, I don't remember, but it was icy outside. This old woman, she broke her hip walking along the sidewalk, she caught herself on a pole, or she tried to and sliced open her hand. My resident charged me with taking care of her."

"So I remind  you of an old lady because I sliced open my hand?" Bucky teased, wondering if he could get her to laugh again.

It worked and Bucky felt something warm stir inside his chest. He liked her laugh. It made her "No, it's just, while I was working, she asked me what a young thing like me was doing at a hospital when I should have been out celebrating."

"What'd you tell her?"

"That I, well that I had no family to celebrate with."

Bucky heard Sharon's story echo back in his mind. Her father was dead and though her mother was still living, they had stopped being a family. Suddenly, Bucky wondered just how many Christmases Melody had passed by herself.

"Why not?" he asked, wondering if she'd opt to tell him what happened. Though he already knew the truth, Bucky wanted to hear it from her. He wanted...he wanted her to trust him with her painful past.

Mel didn't answer at first, but instead drew out a long breath. "I don't have parents."

"They're dead?" Bucky asked, playing dumb and letting an expression of confusion and sorrow flicker across his face.

"My father is."

"So your mother is alive then?"

"I assume so," Mel said. "I haven't seen an obituary in the newspaper yet."

"Assume?" Bucky didn't like the way she said that either. Something about it seemed heavy, as though there was a great deal more to the word that what the dictionary said.

"She and I don't talk."

"Why not?"

"We don't get along," Mel said with another shrug of her tiny shoulders. "So it makes both of our lives a lot easier if we don't talk." There was a pause and then she spoke again. "Do you remember your mother Bucky?"

"No," he shook his head. "She died when I was a kid."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," Bucky said with a shrug of his own. He took another sip of his coffee which was now stone cold, grit his teeth and gathered up whatever courage he had left. He wanted Mel to tell him the truth, he wanted that very much, but she would need the chance to do it. She needed an invitation to open up.

"Do you remember your father?"

Mel shaking hands curled around her coffee mug, like she was warding off a chill. "There isn't much to remember."

"You were young when he died then?" Bucky pressed, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but unable to stop all the same. _Please,_ he thought. _Let me try to help you be Mel._

"No, I wasn't that young, I was twelve, nearly thirteen. I just don't have many good memories of him. He wasn't home that often so I rarely saw him." She sighed and stood up, hands trembling as she slid her stool back against the island. "I'm going to go out for a bit alright? Run some errands. I'll be back soon."

Melody tugged on a jacket as she spoke, pausing only to switch her coffee from one hand to the other and then grabbed her keys.

"Don't you think you might want to change first?" Bucky asked, noting her mussed hair and sweatpants.

"Nah, the clerks are used to me looking awful, they won't say anything."

"You don't look awful," Bucky said instantly, still remembering the way her laugh sounded and the way it made her eyes sparkle. "You look beautiful."

He actually hadn't thought about it before, but now, saying it aloud, Bucky realized it was true. Mel wasn't beautiful in the sense that she made a room stop and stare to get a look at her, but in a way that crept on people.

He hadn't noticed at all until he'd seen her light up and laugh. Now he saw all of it. The bright green of her eyes, the waves in her hair and the graceful proportions of her hands. He felt stupid for taking so long to see it.

Mel's thin mouth flickered. "I'm not beautiful, but thanks anyway."  Then she turned around and vanished from view, and Bucky waited to hear the tell-tale sound of the door swinging shut.

He didn't. Instead, he heard a sharp gasp and then the sound of a glass breaking against the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry about the later timing of it, I was pretty busy all day! As always, reviews are welcome! Thank you for reading! :)


	15. Fifteen

Bucky didn't even realize he'd move until he found himself standing in the entryway. He'd expected an assailant, blood, fired guns or at least a knife. What he saw was even more bizarre.

Melody was glaring at the entryway closet, her coffee mug a pile of glass shards at her feet. Dark brown liquid steeping across the floor towards her sock-covered feet.

"Mel?" Bucky called, walking towards her, careful to avoid the glass. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Took a misstep," Mel muttered. "Dropped my coffee."

She reached out with a shaking hand and pushed the door shut. "Where you snooping last night? Before you went back to sleep?"

"No," Bucky heard defense creep into his voice at her words. He hadn't been "snooping" at all.

"Then why was this left open?" Mel's voice was tense as she drew her arms together and clenched her trembling hands around her biceps. "It wasn't me who did it so that leaves you. Unless you invite your friends over while I'm at work."

A bitter, sarcastic tone entered her voice that didn't suit her and Bucky bristled at it.

"I was cold last night," he said stiffly. "I was looking for a blanket."

"And you couldn't shut the door afterwards?"

"It was dark, it was late and I was tired. I forgot to do it. What's the problem?" His logic didn't seem to phase Mel at all. Her pissed-off expression remained.

"You shouldn't have gone digging around, you should have asked me where to look instead of just searching on your own."

"Yeah," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "I was going to wake you up at some unholy hour for a _blanket_." He placed a heavy amount of sarcasm on the word "blanket" just to drive home how ridiculous her argument was.

"I was never asleep," Mel replied icily.

"And I'm supposed to know that?" Bucky demanded, whatever patience he had snapping. "I can do a lot but I don't have the ability to read minds!"

"Then read my lips," Mel said, stepping around the broken glass and through the coffee puddle. "This is my house and as long as you're staying here you are going to act accordingly. My roof, my rules and I don't have many. In fact, I only have one."

The doctor stepped up to him, closely, chest to chest which really made the difference in their heights apparent. However, Mel didn't appear to notice that or care. A fire was blazing in her eyes, wild and unsteady.

Bucky recognized and it made him uneasy.

"The one and only rule of this house is simple: if a door is _shut_ , it's shut for a _reason_. If you are unaware of what that reason is, do not go looking for an answer. Am I understood?"

"What's your problem?" Bucky demanded. He stepped back, unable to keep seeing that look in Mel's eyes. It felt unnerving-she was always so calm, but this said something else. Something that was not calm, it was something that was caged.

  "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Am I understood?"

"Answer my question!"

"Am I understood?" Mel repeated, apparently deaf to what he was saying.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have one," she said. "Now answer me, was there anything about my rule that was unclear? Is there anything that was just impossible for you to follow? And by the way, if that happens to be the case, the door is right behind me."

She walked passed him then, her words hanging in the air and they sucked the fight right out of Bucky.

It didn't matter that she was being unreasonable. It didn't matter that she was attacking him for no apparent reason.

Bucky couldn't leave. He needed a place to stay.

And so he gave up.

"I understand perfectly," he muttered.

"Good," the doctor replied and though Bucky knew it was foolish, he couldn't let her have the last word.

"Anymore rules Doctor _Freezer_?" He asked. "Or do I have to break a rule I didn't even know about and then have you rip my throat out for it?"

Bucky turned his head, glaring at Mel who'd stopped her retreat as he'd spoken.

The response he was waiting for was an equally chilly reply. That wasn't what he got.

Mel started crying.

 _Fuck_. He thought, approaching her. _Sharon is going to murder me._

"Mel, did you step on glass? Please say it's that." Bucky realized how awful that so he amended his statement. "I'd just rather it was that than what I said-"

"For God's sake just shut up! I didn't step on glass!" Mel nearly shrieked, spinning around to face him, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't do anything wrong..." Her volume dropped off to a whisper and her hands began to tremble violently again.

"I did everything right," she whispered, apparently more to herself than to Bucky. "I didn't do anything wrong..."

She wiped at her eyes, still muttering but the words made no sense at all. Bucky caught a few such as: "bluebird, red sneaker" and "scalpel" but they were randomized and gave no real message.

 _Did she suffer head trauma?_ Bucky wondered, cautiously approaching the crying surgeon. He'd given enough people concussions to know that they made people loopy.

"Mel," Bucky tried again, licking his lips which were suddenly dry. "Are you okay? Did you-?"

"He was thirty-five," Mel said, ignoring him, tears still in her eyes. "His son was out in the waiting room. His name was Jackson, he kept looking at me like I was some kind of hero. I tried...I told him I'd do everything I could to make his dad better. I did everything right. _I did everything right_!"

She shouted then, making Bucky jump and he saw more tears pour down her face as she twisted her hands sharply into her hair.

"I did everything right," she said again, whispering once again. "And I failed. I failed. Time of death was eighteen hundred hours."

"What are you talking about?" Bucky demanded, glad she was talking in complete sentences but still clueless to what she was referring to.

"I failed!" Mel shouted, spinning around to glare at Bucky. "Last night when a mugging victim came into my ER. He needed surgery and it was my job today save him. I did everything right, I found the cause of bleeding, my hands were steady, the wound was clean and my sutures were perfect. They are _always_ perfect. I did everything right Bucky! And it _wasn't enough_."

Mel wiped more tears from her face.

"He's dead. He died on my table. His heart rate skyrocketed and his blood pressure dipped to nothing. I went through every method there is to restart his heart. None of it worked. I called time of death at eighteen hundred hours. I watched Henry Gale die. I told his eight year old son his dad was not coming home."

Mel looked like she about to say more, but she didn't and her jaw clenched tight and she brushed her messy hair from her tear-stained face.

Suddenly, her sleepless night made perfect sense to Bucky.

"You didn't fail," he said, stepping closer and reaching out to Mel. "There was nothing you could have done. Death, it doesn't care. And it can't be stopped."

He was sure she already knew this, she'd been a doctor for awhile. She'd seen death before Henry what's-his-name.

"It's my job to do something," Mel replied. "My job is to save lives. My job is to tell little boys there dad is going to be okay."

Bucky recalled Sharon's chilling story about Mel's past. 

Her behavior suddenly clicked for him. _She wasn't just trying to save Henry,_ Bucky thought. _She was trying to save his son from growing up the way she did._

"I know," Bucky said, touching her shoulder, trying to offer some comfort but Mel shrugged it off almost instantly. "But you're human. You can't save everyone. And it's not your fault when there's someone who can't be saved. You didn't fail. You might know more than you did back-."

 _Damn it!_ Bucky cursed in his mind, realizing what he'd just said.

"Back when?" Mel demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he lied.

"I've had a shitty day already," Mel said. "And your terrible lying isn't helping it get any better. Fess up."

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Just don't get mad again okay? Sharon didn't mean to betray your trust. She was just trying to help."

Mel gave him a blank look so Bucky sighed and explained further.

"She didn't like how I was treating you-and now that my head is out of my ass I don't like how I was acting either. But my point is, I kept thinking you couldn't understand what...pain was." He sighed, hearing how stupid it all sounded now. "She told me about your parents. About what happened to your dad and what happened to your mom afterwards."

Understanding shone in Mel's eyes. "So you know?"

"Yeah," he said. "But I didn't want to say anything, not until you told me yourself."

"What if I never told you?"

"Then I'd have kept quiet," Bucky answered, staring at his metal hand. "Your past is your business and I don't have a right to drag it up unless you're okay with it."

"Thanks."

A moment of quiet passed between them and then Bucky spoke again, feeling like he had to. There was so much about the world that had changed, but condolences for the death of a loved one wasn't one of them. Those were still expected.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said. "What happened, I'm sorry you went through that. I can't imagine what that was like."

The words felt hollow to Bucky. Well-meaning sure, but useless. Words didn't bring John Frasier back. Words didn't erase the last terrible memory Mel had of her father.

"Thank you."

Mel pushed her hair back again and sighed. "I'm going to catch up on sleep. If you need me, wake me up."

"Let's avoid that," Bucky offered. "Tell me, any other doors around here that I'm not allowed to open besides this one?"

He gestured to the closet and watched as a ghost of smile flickered across Mel's face.

"On the first floor, just off the living room and by the study, there's a door-it stays shut. Second floor, third bedroom to the left of yours, never open that door either."

Bucky blinked, surprised that he'd gotten a serious answer. "Why? I won't open them, but I'd like to know why."

Mel shook her head. "The only thing you have to know is that they need to stay closed. The reasons don't matter-not to you anyway."

"Then who do they matter to?" Bucky asked.

"Me," she said. "They matter to me. Goodnight Bucky."

"It's ten-thirty in the morning," he pointed out.

Mel shrugged. "Same thing only different." She turned around and began walking towards the living room and then stopped short.

"I should probably clean this up first-."

"I got it," Bucky said. "Rest. You need it."

Mel blinked. "Oh, thank you."

"Don't mention it. Sleep well." _I hope you don't dream about Henry or your father. Dream about the people you've saved._

That sounded like a nice thing to Bucky. The idea of saving lives, being the reason someone saw another day.

It sounded like a fairytale.

Or at least, it sounded more pleasant than dreaming about someone blowing their head off or the broken heart of a little boy.He hoped Mel could dream about better things than that. Anyone as kind-hearted as she was deserved that much.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bucky took one glance at the mess on the floor and walked towards the kitchen to get a broom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thanks to whoever it was who left a kudos on the last chapter! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic! Thanks for reading! :)


	16. Sixteen

_He saw it. Or more accurately, he saw her. The solider spotted his target, he'd found his mission. They were right on time._

_He walked through the crowded streets, keeping a safe distance as he followed. She didn't even notice they were being followed. So oblivious to the danger just a foot behind her on the sidewalk. The street grew less and less crowded as the mission moved, the sky became darker as night settled over them both._

_A perfect setting._

_No witnesses. That had been the parameters of the mission and he was going to have no problem following that._

_He followed as the mission came to a large, red brick apartment building and then slipped inside. He heard his earpiece go off, asking about the progress of the mission._

_He ignored it. He'd be able to answer with the words "mission complete" in five minutes time._

_He followed her up the stairs using the same excuse he always did as he made his way through the building, keeping a careful distance from his assignment._

_Finally, he was inside their apartment, the lone window barely casting any light into the space. Good, no neighbors would be able to see anything. The mission set her purse down on a counter and kicked off her shoes, completely unaware that her life was about to end._

_She didn't even have a chance flip on a light before his metal hand closed around her throat._

_There was a struggle, there always was, but it didn't matter. Her nails were nothing against the metal of his arm. Her strength was no match for his. It was useless for her to fight. Same as any mission that came before her._

_She stopped fighting and he let go, watching as her lifeless body fell to the floor of dark kitchen._

_"Mission complete," he said, knowing his commander would hear his report._

_"Good work Solider," was the reply. "Return to base."_

_The device fell silent and he was about to turn away, escape and go back just as he'd done a hundred times before now. But something stopped him this time. Something familiar._

_He knew her face._

_The bow shape of her thin lips, the waves of her blonde hair and the bright green of her glassy, unseeing eyes. He knew them. He knew that face._

_The name came to him then, hitting him like a brick._

_"Melody," he whispered, his voice sounding like a fired gun in the quiet. "Melody."_

_His voice shook as a hundred memories flashed through his mind at top speed._ "Let me do my job, _" a strong voice coming out of a small person. That fire in her eyes. Her laugh, lighting up her face though exhaustion radiated off every part of her body._

_Melody Frasier was a doctor. Melody Frasier was a trauma surgeon who'd risked her own freedom to help him, to help the Winter Solider, James Barnes keep his._

_She'd been the mission._

_She was dead._

_He'd killed her._

Bucky woke up screaming _. She's dead,_ he thought, as he fumbled around the in the dark. He didn't want to believe it was true but what he'd just seen felt so real. He'd felt her warmth underneath his hand, watched her struggle, watched as the life was choked right out of her body...

 _I'm going to be sick,_ Bucky thought as he hunched up, stomach twisting as he saw Melody's dead eyes staring back at him.

His door snapped open flooding the dark room with light and his head snapped towards it. Still caught between awake and asleep, Bucky was still unsure of what was real and what was in his head.

"Are you alive?" Melody's voice was familiar, sleepy, but familiar and he felt some of the paralyzing fear he'd felt earlier ebb away. _She's alive,_ he thought, relief sweeping through him. _I didn't hurt her, she's okay._

"Are you alive?" Melody repeated, taking her usual spot on the edge of his bed. "Bucky answer me."

"You were dead," he said, staring at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest underneath the long sleeved, sleep-rumpled pajamas she was wearing.

"I'm sure I'd remember being dead," the doctor answered, her usual brand of stark comments cutting through Bucky's mind and bringing him back to reality.

"In my dream," he amended, still marveling at the brightness of her eyes as she talked. They'd been so lifeless in his dream. So wrong, so unlike Melody herself. "You were dead. I killed you, they made me forget you." He heard his voice break against his will as he recalled the machine they'd always shoved him into. The metal claws that compressed his head and threw his memories into a blender and turned him from James Barnes to the Winter Solider.

He hadn't forgotten Melody. Hydra hadn't stolen his memories of her. It had never happened. And yet it could have. If they ever found him, if somehow, the garbage they'd programed into his head was still there, lurking beneath the surface and waiting to be used again...His nightmare could so easily become a reality.

"I was the mission," Melody said, voice soft and Bucky nodded, unable to speak."Hey," she said, reaching out, her hand curling around his shoulder-a comforting gesture Bucky hadn't felt in years. "It's alright. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

Bucky didn't reply, he kept seeing her eyes. The eyes she'd had in the nightmare.

"What can you see?" Melody pressed. "Look at me and tell me what you see. Do it James."

He peeled his eyes away from the floor to do as he was told. He recognized the tone in her voice. She wasn't going to give up the fight. She'd keep going until she won.

"I see you," he replied lamely. "And the hallway light."

The doctor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good, what can you hear?"

"What?"

"What do you hear?"

"You're talking, I can hear your voice. I can hear mine. My heartbeat." It was slower than it had been, but he could still hearing the organ slamming in his chest.

"What can you feel?"

"I feel...cold," he said finally, aware for the first time of the cold sweat slithering down his skin. "I'm cold. It's cold here."

"I agree," Melody said, rubbing his shoulder, a tired smile coming to her face. "It _is_ cold." She scooted closer, one arm wrapping around his waist. "You're shaking."

"I am?" Bucky hadn't realized it, but he found it was true. He _was_ shaking. Shivering was more accurate. His teeth were clacking together in the quiet room and making his jaw ache.

"Yeah, you're freezing," Melody shifted, keeping one arm around Bucky, which he noticed was very warm and then using the other to grab the twisted blankets that were on the floor. "Here," she drew them around him as best she could and Bucky grabbed them with one free hand, trying to hold them close but being unwilling to move.

He was too frightened to try. He was scared his surroundings would break apart and he'd find himself back in Siberia again. Back at the base and awaiting his next mission.

"Easy," the doctor whispered, rubbing small circles into his back. "I'm fine, you're fine, you and I are _both fine_."

Bucky leaned against Melody, feeling the last remnants of the dream fade away. He wasn't on a mission. He was in the Frasier house. Melody wasn't his mission, she wasn't dead. She was alive and well. She was right next to him, muttering soothing words and keeping him warm.

She was alive.

He wasn't the solider.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said finally, thankful that his teeth had finally stopped chattering.

"It's fine, I was already awake."

"You're a bad liar Melody."

"What?"

"I said your a bad liar," Bucky repeated. "I mean you didn't sleep last night and the work you've put in-."

"That's not what I was talking about," she interrupted. "You called me Melody."

"Yeah," Bucky answered. "That's your name isn't it?"

"Yes, but no one calls me that."

"Why not? It's a nice name, much better than Mel honestly. It sounds better when you say it out loud."

"Why don't people call you James?" she retorted with a teasing smile.

He shrugged. "Always sounded stuffy to me, what about you?"

"There was another Melody in my intern pool so they shortened my name to tell us apart. It stuck after I became a resident."

"You could switch back," Bucky suggested. "Go by your real name again."

"Nah, I like Mel, but I'll tell you what, if you let me call you James, I'll let you get away with calling me Melody. Sound fair?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "Fair," he agreed.

Melody laughed and as soon as the sound faded out, the room was entirely silent, save for the sound of breathing and wind outside. It was peaceful, or at least Bucky thought it was, but that was because he was awake.

Sleep was never peaceful. Sleep brought ghosts that liked to howl, scream and claw at the inside of his mind.

"James?"

"Mhm?" Melody's voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

"Do you ever fall back to sleep after your nightmares?"

He sighed. "Not really. How'd you know?"

"I didn't," she answered. "Not until right now." A heartbeat passed and the doctor spoke again. "Do you even try?"

"No."

"Why not?"

The words felt like glass in his throat. "Because I'm afraid," he answered softly. "I'm afraid of what I'm going to see. Everything that happened, everything I've done, it's awful and it's one thing to know it happened. It's another to relive it."

Melody's eyes flashed and it suddenly hit Bucky that she had eyes light a cat. They were bright even in the dark. His nightmare had missed that.

"Believe it or not," she said after several long moments. "I know exactly how that this."

"I believe you," Bucky said instantly. He remembered her wild eyes from earlier that day, her broken voice, _I did everything right._ The case had brought her right back to the first time she saw death, the first time she tried to prevent death and the first time she failed in her efforts.

"I'm afraid to sleep," he said again. "And I know there are medications to help but..."

"But then you can't escape," Melody finished. "You're trapped then."

"Did you ever try doing something like that?" He asked, hearing the ghosts in his head whisper screams and pleas. "Try some sort of pill to help you sleep?"

Melody leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. Her soft hair tickled Bucky's neck and it made him tense up at first, but then he relaxed into her and put one arm around her waist. He couldn't remember the last time he'd touched another person like that, or the last time someone had done that to him.

"The night it happened," she said finally. "The doctors in the hospital gave me something to help me sleep. You'd think, after all of that, after what happened that I would have been too tired to dream, but I wasn't. I dreamed. I kept hearing the gun, I kept hearing Moria's screaming, I felt blood and this squishy pink stuff spraying my face."

"Squishy pink stuff?" Bucky repeated.  "Do you mean his brain?"

"Yeah," Melody replied. "That's exactly what I meant. I just couldn't connect the pieces at the time. I knew the bullet went into his brain, but I'd never actually given though to what that organ was like."

"That's horrible."

"I never took sleeping pills again."

"But you can sleep now, can't you? Without the nightmares?" Bucky asked hopefully. "I haven't heard you before, you sleep through the night."

"I have bad nights," Melody said. "But most of the time, yes, I can keep my nightmares away."

"How do you do it?" Bucky asked. "Is it something I can learn? Can you teach me?" He'd try anything at this point. Though he didn't have any commitments in his life to speak of, all the sleepless nights were starting to catch up to him and Bucky had no idea how much longer he could keep going.

"It's weird," she admitted, brushing her hair from her eyes. "But it works for me."

"What do you do?"

"I sing."

"What?"

"I sing," Melody repeated, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I sing until I fall asleep."

"Well shit," Bucky muttered. "If you're serious there is no way I can do that. I can't sing."

Melody laughed. "Tell you what, tonight I'll sing for you. I'll sing until you're asleep."

"You're crazy," Bucky replied instantly. "There's no way that can work." He yawned even as the words left his mouth and then shrugged. "But why not? It's not like I have anything to lose."

Melody smiled at him again. The smile that made her entire face light up and made Bucky realize how pretty Melody Frasier actually was.

"That's what I want to hear," she said. "Lay down."

Bucky did as he was instructed hearing a change in her tone. The emotions that had been tucked around her words moments before were fading out. She was morphing right before his eyes, going from Melody to Doctor Frasier.

"Good," she approved sliding her arm out from underneath his back. "Now shut your eyes," there was a click and the lamp shut off and whatever light had been in the room faded out to almost nothing.

"I can't," Bucky whispered already hearing the ghosts rattle in his head. Cryo had always been dark. Most of his assignments happened at night when no one would be around to see.

"Fine," Melody said. "Then, if you can't do that, I want you to keep your eyes on me alright?"

"Why?" he asked, feeling his heart start to pick up a frantic pace as he heard the screaming and gunfire.

"Because _I am real_ ," Melody said fixing him with her glowing eyes. "You can see me, you can hear me and," she ran her long fingers down his face. The skin was warm and soft. "You can feel me too. I am _real_. I am _here_. Whatever you're seeing, whatever is in your head, it is _not real_. You need to focus on me, alright?"

"Right," Bucky said, focusing on her wavy hair. The glossy strands were so pale in the silver of the moonlight that it almost looked grey instead of blonde. _She's real,_ Bucky thought, grabbing for her hand. Melody caught on instantly and met him halfway, her grip strong and warm. She wasn't going to let go, he knew that. Not until he was asleep.

"Any requests?"

"What?"

"For a song," she clarified. "Is there anything you want me to sing?"

"I don't listen to music," Bucky said. Last time he'd even listened to the radio was back in 1945. Siberia and Hydra had taken away music. There had never been any on the base where he was kept and he'd never listened to it when they sent him out. If he did it was just by accident.  "Anything's fine by me."

"Fine," she said. "But that means you have just given up your right to complain about the song choice by saying that."

"Fine," Bucky agreed. "Let's go."

Melody drew in a deep breath and then, just as she'd promised, Melody started to sing. " _Skies are crying/I am watching catching teardrops in my hands/only silence as it's ending-."_

"You have a good voice," Bucky commented instantly, startled by it. Nothing about Melody indicated she had any musical talent and yet here it was. She had a clear, lovely singing voice.

"You're supposed to be quiet you know, you're just supposed to focus on the music. It shuts out the noise."

"Right, sorry," Bucky muttered, suppressing a smile. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," Melody replied, squeezing his hand and then she continued, her ringing voice carrying in the dark room and settling over Bucky like a blanket. It was sound that cut through everything and captured attention. It didn't leave room for anything else. It didn't leave room for ghosts to be heard.

Before he knew it, for the first time in weeks, Bucky fell back asleep after a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double updated today! Seems they're starting to bond-how are we feeling about that? I'd love to hear from you guys! Thank you for reading! :)


	17. Seveteen

Bucky awoke to sunlight blinding him and it took him a second to gain his bearings. When he finally figured out that it was morning and the sun was out, he realized two other things and both shocked him. He'd slept through the night. He hadn't had a nightmare and he was still in bed.

The second thing was that he wasn't alone. Curled up next to him was Melody Frasier and her eyes were wide open and alert.

"You're still here?" he asked, sitting upright and cracking his neck.

"Good morning to you too."

"Sorry-morning, but being serious, you were here all night?"

"Yeah, I couldn't leave."

"I was sleeping," Bucky disagreed. "I was fine. You could have left. I didn't have any more nightmares." He still couldn't believe that. After weeks and weeks of gory horrors and death painting his dreams night after night, the idea that they were gone, even just for a few hours was almost unbelievable.

It seemed like it was too good to be true. Though Bucky knew he was still behind on sleep, already he felt so much better than he had in weeks. He wasn't fighting to keep his eyes open, his body didn't feel like sluggish and slow. His mind already felt sharper, more alert and ready to tackle something.

"No I couldn't have," Melody replied, smiling, apparently catching onto his apparent glee. "You're still holding my hand."

"I am?"

He looked down and sure enough, his fingers were still twined tightly around Melody's. "Oh, I'm sorry." He released his grip and watched as Melody flexed her fingers to get blood flowing again. "Are you hurt?" He felt blood flow his face as he realized how dangerous it was-he could break bones with ease and fingers were especially easy.

If he'd had a nightmare, or even just moved wrong he could have snapped the bones in her hands...He didn't want to think about that. It would have been the end of her career. Surgeons needed their hands.

"It's fine," she said with a dismissive shrug. "You hungry?"

"A little."

"How does toast sound?"

"Toast?"

Melody shrugged. "I forget to eat, do you really think I'm going to know how to make complex meals?"

Bucky felt himself smile in spite of himself. "No, I guess not."

He followed the doctor out of the room, keeping a careful distance. He knew Melody was not frightened of him, but he wasn't sure how she felt now after what happened last night. She'd calmed him down after his nightmare, which was typical, but now she'd helped him fall back asleep and helped him find peace which was even more astounding.

How was he supposed to talk to her after that?

Melody hurried down the stairs, chattering still but Bucky didn't hear the words, just the sound of her voice. He'd never noticed how lovely it was before, but now, after hearing her sing, he could hear the undertones of it better. They were soft, clear like a bell and sweet. He felt stupid for missing it.

"James?"

"What?"

"Two things: what do you want on your toast and why are you staring at me?"

"Peanut butter is fine," Bucky answered without thinking. "And..." He didn't even know he had been staring until she pointed it out. "Sorry," he felt his face get warm again. "I didn't mean to."

"Do I have something on my face?" Her fingers flew to her face instantly, as though she was searching for some foreign object or stain on her skin.

"No," Bucky said. "You don't. And before you can ask, no you look beautiful so that's not the issue either. I was just thinking."

Melody's smile faded away. "I'm not beautiful."

"What?"

"I'm not beautiful," she repeated, throwing bread into the toaster. "Anything to drink? Milk? Orange juice?"

"Either one is fine," Bucky muttered, not really paying attention then either. He looked at Melody again, this time careful to make sure she didn't catch him. He looked at her again, this time focusing on her features. Her big, bright eyes fringed with dark eyelashes, her shiny hair, soft lips and graceful hands.

 _How could she come to that conclusion?_ he wondered, completely perplexed at the idea. Melody Frasier wasn't some model on a magazine, Bucky knew that, but she was beautiful. The idea that she couldn't see that made no sense to him.

The doctor set a plate and glass in front of Bucky interrupting his musings and startling him. "Sorry," she muttered, eyes darting to and fro not really stopping on anything. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't paying attention," he replied, taking a bite of his food without tasting it. "Not your fault."

"You're not working today?"

"What gave that away?" She asked, munching on her own food.

"You would have left by now," Bucky said. "You're always eager to get to the hospital."

"I love my job," Melody said with a touch of defense in her tone. "Is that wrong?"

"No," Bucky said instantly. "That's a great thing actually. I just don't see how you can be so eager to be there every day. Every day can't be a good one."

"That's true," she agreed. "But you can find something good in every day."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah right."

"Yes, you can." Melody polished off the last of her toast. "Just maybe not right away, but afterwards. It's possible. Trust me."

"I do," Bucky said. "I just can't understand that."

"It's difficult," she admitted. "When Loki's army invaded New York and I was trapped under that-."

"You were there when Loki invaded New York?" Bucky interrupted, nearly dropping his coffee. He'd been a machine then, but he'd heard plenty about it afterwards. Melody had been caught in the middle of _that_?

"Yes, I was on the subway, the tunnel collapsed on us. Lot of people got hurt and we were there for eight hours before rescue could get is out. I had my work cut out for me that day. Holy shit."

She blew a strand of hair out of her face, smiling with disbelief. "Adrian Turner was the worst though, shrapnel and debris cut his insides up pretty badly. I still can't believe he lived. I had him stabilized but he was fading when they brought him the nearest hospital. Emergency services got there just in time."

"Wow," Bucky commented, unsure of what else to say while he ate. "That's amazing. You're amazing."

Melody blushed at that and Bucky tried not to laugh. He'd never seen her blush before.

"I didn't do anything any decent person wouldn't have done. My background in emergency medicine just made me more effective. And I freely admit Aidan was sheer dumb luck. He wouldn't have made it much longer without the outside help. Maggie Thatcher wasn't though, and neither was Russell Barker. They were just cut up pretty bad and had lost a fair amount of blood. Some lady had a few granola bars in her purse so that helped to keep their blood sugar levels up."

"How does sugar help when you lose blood?"

"It wasn't an obscene amount," Melody answered. "I, with the help of some of the other people was able to stop the bleeding before it reached that point. I don't have exact measurements but I figure they only lost a pint or two each. It's no more than when you donate blood. Keeping sugar levels up helps to keep some from passing out afterwards."

"But it could have been worse?" Bucky questioned.

"Undoubtably," Melody said. "But thankfully it wasn't the case this time. New York got to be a victory for me even though I would have preferred to have avoided the whole thing."

"Understandable," Bucky had seen some of the footage from that day. The destruction had been awe-inspiring and horrifying. And Steve Rogers has been right at the center of it. Of course. He never could walk away from a fight.

Bucky took another bite of toast. "So, what are we gonna do today? What does Doctor Frasier do on her days off?"

"Besides hoping no one dies in my ER?"

"Yes, besides that."

"And I assume worrying about Sharon is excluded too?"

"Yes."

Melody frowned. "Then nothing really. I don't do much outside of that."

"You don't have any hobbies?" Bucky asked, unwilling to believe that. "At all? What about singing? You're good at that, you ever thought about joining a choir?"

Melody shook her head. "I don't sing in public."

"What about writing? You do that a lot."

"As a form of therapy." Melody drank the last of her coffee and set her dishes in the sink. She turned on the faucet and sighed. "Well I go for walks in Central Park sometimes. I like looking at the trees."

"Really?" Bucky said, fighting the urge to laugh. "That's the best you can do? The most fun you have is walking in the park?"

"Yeah."

Bucky couldn't help it, he felt himself start to laugh. "That's pathetic. When I was your age I was out roaming the city, visiting fairs, riding trains, I even rode in the back of a freezer truck once. You need to get out more Mel. You need to...live more."

Melody smiled, instead of getting offended, which he realized wouldn't have been unwarranted.

"Sorry," he added. "I don't mean that to be rude. I'm just saying you need to enjoy your life while its still yours to enjoy. Speaking from experience, you can wake up one day and find out it stopped belonging to you."

"I know," Mel said. "I just...I don't know how to do that."

"You don't know how to enjoy life?"

She shook her head. "No, not that. I enjoy many aspects of my life. I just..." She bowed her head and rubbed at her left shoulder as though it was sore. "Never mind."

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, noticing the far-off look she had on her face.

Mel ran a hand through her hair. "I just need some air, want to go on a walk?"

"Sure," Bucky said, taken aback by her sudden change of topic. It didn't stop him from accepting the offer however. He wasn't eager to part with Mel already.

They never spent a great deal of time together most days and Bucky liked being around her. Mel was smart, funny and had some sort of quality to her, a strength Bucky could see, but couldn't find the source of.

He wanted a chance to unravel that mystery. He wanted to give her to chance to go from being Doctor Frasier to just Mel for a little while.

"Meet me out on the porch in five alright?"

"Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Shoutout to Wintersgirl, another ao3 user who left a kudos on this work! Thanks for reading! :)


	18. Eighteen

"So," Bucky said, ducking under a low-hanging tree branch. "How many acres of land are around this place anyways?"

"About twenty," Melody answered, the shadows of the maple leaves casting dark patterns over her body. "I'd have to drag up records to be sure but it's a enough to have this little forest around."

"Yeah," Bucky noted. "It must be. I just can't believe this is still in New York."

"You grew up in the inner city didn't you?"

"Brooklyn," he clarified. "Same as Steve. So all this green is a little...weird. To think it's still all so close. I mean, when you go to work, it's what? A thirty, forty minute drive to the hospital?"

"If you don't count how congested traffic is and how long it takes to ride a subway then yes."

Bucky snorted. "You know what I mean. One's a jungle of concrete and steel, but this...It's not. And they're so close to each other."

A bird flew overhead then, a bluebird, Bucky noticed which distracted Mel for a moment. As the bird flit above, it chirped, making her smile widely and giggle.

"What?" Bucky asked as the bird flew out of sight. "Something funny?"

"No, no," Melody said, waving her hand dismissively as she got her laughter under control. "Well sort of, but it's not something you'd understand."

"I _do_ have a sense of humor you know," he replied, picking up a stick from the ground and tossing it between his fingers to distract himself. He didn't want to be caught staring at her again. "Try me."

"I never said you didn't, but if you weren't there, you'd never get why I'm laughing."

"Tell me anyway?"

"I had a patient once," she said. "My first  year as a resident. He was obsessed with bird-watching."

"And?"

"Well he didn't have  knack for remembering names very well, and the head injury he got in the crash made it worse. So he called me 'Doctor Bluebird' when I came in."

"You're kidding."

Melody shook her head. "Not at all. I have no idea where he got the idea to give me that name, but he kept it up right until he left the hospital. So now, whenever I see a bluebird, I think of Jacob Menz."

Bucky felt a smile of his own come to his face. "That's really nice."

"It's just association," Melody shrugged. "A coping technique I use."

"Coping technique?" Bucky echoed. "What do you mean?" _What are you trying to cope with?_ Her  father was an obvious choice but this didn't seem like the sort of case that reminded her of him. It was an injured child, an injured child who walked away whole and healthy after a while. How could that trigger anything?

Melody rolled the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. Why she even wore long sleeves on today of all days made no sense at all to Bucky. It was eighty degrees outside. Even Bucky was wearing a t-shirt that exposed his metal arm.

"It's hard sometimes, what I do," she explained, leaning back against the trunk of the ancient maple and sliding down it's trunk. "Trauma doesn't exactly have high rates of survival. Those days are hard to deal with sometimes."

Bucky wasn't sure how to respond to that. He'd seen people die too, but not in the way Melody was describing. She'd been fighting to save a life every time she saw death. Bucky couldn't remember doing that. Hydra had never ordered that. His job had been to kill and only kill.

"I guess," he said finally, striding over and sitting next to Melody on the grass. "So you use association to forget the ones you lost?"

"No," she said. "I will never forget any of them.It's the ones who make it that are easy to forget."

"I don't understand," Bucky said instantly. "How can you forget doing something as incredible as saving someone's life?" The only person he could recall saving was Steve and even though he'd done next to nothing, only pulled him out of a river Bucky but even so, he remembered how that felt.

It had been a feeling of waking up. Like the dawn, a chance for something new.  He didn't think he could ever forget that. That was of course, assuming Hydra didn't throw his brain back into chaos.

"Because," Melody said, drawing her arms around her knees. "People are better at remembering things that hurt us than anything else. It's how we survive."

"Melody," Bucky said carefully. He was still adjusting to the fact that he was allowed to use her real name now. "Are you okay?" Something about her tone upset him, bothered him even-he wondered if she was thinking of her parents again. Maybe about her mother, who'd never been able to let the ghost of her husband go.

"I'm fine," she said instantly. "I'm just stating a fact.  I suppose though I might sound morbid." Melody sat up a bit straighter and lost her defensive position."See, I'm a scientist and part of science is evolution. You know what that is right?"

"I'm not stupid," Bucky said. "It's the idea that living things are constantly changing to better adapt to their environment."

"I never said you were, I just don't know if this was something they covered back in 1945. And you're right by the way, evolution is all about survival. One aspect of survival is not repeating painful things. If you stick your hand on a hot pan as a child you get burned and you remember for the rest of your life. The lesson 'do not touch hot objects on the stove' never goes away because you remember how badly it hurt to be burned. It prevents the same mistake from being repeated. It aids survival."

"So you forget the patients you saved because it aids your ability to survive?" He didn't understand where she was going with her point at all. Bucky understood how well pain stuck in the memory, his own mind was proof enough of that fact, but he didn't understand what she meant about forgetting the people she'd saved.

"No," Melody said. "I'm saying the memories of the people who die on my table are painful. So much so that sometimes, they overwhelm the memories of the ones who made it. That's why I have to work harder to remember them."

"Okay," Bucky said slowly, feeling his stomach twist as he saw the haunted look Melody had taken up again. "And you use words to do that? How? Just anything or...?"

"No," she answered. "Things specific to that person or their case. Then when I see it or hear it, whichever it is and I can think about them. The words trigger the memory. See what I mean?"

Bucky heard the voice in his memory. _Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming.One. Freight car._

"Yeah," he said. "I think so. Who taught you to do that?"

She shrugged and wiped a hand across her forehead which was starting to bead up with sweat. "No one really, it just started happening. I'd hear something that reminded me of a case and one day I started actively creating things to remind me of cases that were...well they had happy endings. If you believe in that sort of things I guess."

"You don't?" The idea shocked Bucky. Melody, the woman who never walked away from something that mattered to her. Someone who couldn't be stopped in her quest to help people didn't believe in a happy ending. "You don't believe in happy endings?" He said again, watching as her arms wrapped around her knees again.

"No. I don't. I want to, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm just cynical I guess, but I'm getting better though. I used to not believe in heroes too."

"What changed?"

"Your friend, Steve Rogers, he changed my mind."

"If anyone's a hero Steve is," Bucky agreed instantly. "He always had the heart of one. Even when he was ninety pounds soaking wet and couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag." He smiled, thinking of the scrawny kid in the alleyway bruised black and blue, barely standing but not willing to give up.

He saw him again, not so small, many years later and a stranger. A stranger right up until Steve Rogers saved the Winter Solider from himself. Beaten, bloody and out of time but still not willing to give up on his friend.

"I never saw him when he was like that," Melody admitted. "I just saw him throw himself between the entire civilian population of New York City and a bunch of aliens. Anyone who does that, well I don't think that any other word other than 'hero' fits men like that. He was actually there afterwards too, helping dig out the rest of us after the battle was over."

"Sounds like something he would do."

"I didn't know it then," Melody said. "But I'd get to help him later."

"You saved him, after we met last. I remember, you told me that."

"I didn't save him," Melody disagreed. "It's never a solo effort in surgery. I had a good team, scrubs nurses, anesthesiologists, techs and whatever else you could think you'd need on a trauma team."

"But you were holding the scalpel."

"I could have done everything right and Steve still could have died. His strength got him through, not my sutures."

"They probably didn't hurt though," Bucky said, nudging Melody playfully with his shoulder. The metal glinted in the afternoon sun, the red star bright prominent but she didn't seem to notice either of those things.

She smiled and leaned her head against his arm either deliberately ignoring what it was or not caring. "Yeah, I guess not." She yawned then and her eyes began to close to which Bucky rolled his eyes and began laughing.

"Forest floors are not places to sleep Melody." Bucky had said that a few times to her already, applying the principle to coffee tables, kitchen islands and floors. Melody never seemed to listen, but generally she was halfway to sleep so she probably hadn't heard him anyways.

"Any where's a place to sleep if it stays still long enough," she mumbled, already half asleep.

"Come on," Bucky said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "Let's go back the house. You need to sleep."

"What do you think I was trying to do?" Melody muttered, sounding rather annoyed as she took his extended hand and allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he offered. "I mean, if you're really so tired it wouldn't be an issue. It's partly my fault anyways. You can never get a good night's sleep thanks to me."

Melody shook her head. "Nah, I'll walk. I promised we'd do something and I'm already cutting things short. Least I can do is see it through til the end."

Bucky didn't press the issue. "If you're sure."

"I am," she looped her arm through his. Flesh against metal. Human against machine. "But, in the event I start sleepwalking please don't lead me into any trees."

"I won't," Bucky said, trying to ignore the warm feeling that was curling up in his stomach. He recognized it, but he wouldn't name it. There was no place for it in his life anymore. There was no place for it in Melody's life, at least not where he was concerned.

 _Don't even think about it,_ Bucky thought to himself sternly as he and Melody made their way back across the leaf-covered trail towards the house. Still, despite his internal warning to himself, that feeling intensified as Bucky he lead a half-awake Melody the couch and covered her with a nearby sweatshirt of his.

And it stayed with him long after he went upstairs to write in his journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update today! Seems Bucky's starting to get...attached to Mel-how are we thinking that's going to go? Thanks for reading! :)


	19. Nineteen

_Melody and I went out on a walk today. Hotter than hell but she was still wearing a long sleeved shirt. I think something is bothering her, I don't know what but she told me about this thing she does. A memory trick, associating words or objects with her patients who survived being on her operating table._

_She said they were the ones she had the easiest time forgetting. That pain from the ones she lost shoved them out. Melody mentioned something about pain being an asset to survival. Prevents the same mistake from being made again and whatnot._

_I don't think she was talking about her dead patients when she said that._

"Hey Bucky _."_

He jumped up at the sound of his name _,_ his hand flying to the gun he had nearby and spinning it around to see the threat. Except it wasn't a threat.

Sharon Carter was back and standing in the doorway. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in bubblegum pink scrubs.

"You're working undercover as a nurse still?" he asked, lowering the gun and returning it to his hostler. _"And how'd you get in here?"_

"The window on the north side of the house," Sharon answered. "I sometimes practice odd entries here. It's a good location."

"It is," Bucky agreed. He'd noticed that himself when he'd first come to the house. "Couldn't you have called ahead to warn us?" He turned his back towards his journal and started at the new entry. It had been nearly two pages long, but now the last page had a long black scratch through it all.

He sighed, picking up the journal, snapped the cover shut and tossed it onto his bed. _Great,_ he thought. _All that work and now I might not be able to read it._

"I didn't think to do that, sorry." The agent said with a shrug as she stood on her toes to peer around Bucky. "What's that on your bed?"

"Just a notebook Melody gave me." Bucky answered. "I was just writing some stuff down. It's nothing."

Sharon didn't look convinced but didn't push further on the issue. "I wouldn't get in the habit of calling her Melody. She goes by Mel for a reason."

Bucky shrugged. "She told me I could, just as long as she gets to call me James."

Sharon blinked, surprise written across her face. "Oh, well then I guess you're in the clear." She put her hands in her pockets, her posture radiated relaxation and ease, but then it flickered away and Sharon went stiff as a board. Tension replaced her easy stance and her blue eyes darted across the room and took in every detail.

"Where's Mel?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and fearful.

"Downstairs as far I know," Bucky answered with a shrug of his own. "I think she was sleeping but that was a few hours ago."

Sharon's usually tan complexion fade out and she became pale. "What? You left her alone?"

"She was sleeping," Bucky repeated. "I didn't want to-Wait, Sharon where are you going?"

The agent didn't answer as she tore out of the room and the sound of her footsteps banging down the stairs echoed throughout the entire house.

 _What did I do now?_ he wondered as he followed her downstairs. What he found when he got to the living room surprised him.

Melody was on the floor, pale and sweaty and Sharon was beside her, holding her upright and looking just as ill.

"Mel?" she said, voice shaking, nearly frantic. "Mel what happened? Why are you on the floor? Are you-?"

"I rolled over and fell" the doctor replied, looking a bit dazed still "Ow," she rubbed a spot on her forehead. "I think I hit my head there. Ouch. Why are you freaking out? Did someone try to kill us? Where's my gun?"

Melody stood up, scanning the room carefully and quickly as she looked for a threat. When she didn't find one she glared at her friend. "You're acting weird, what happened?"

Sharon stood up as well, relief paramount on her face. "Nothing, just me being paranoid again. You know how it is with my job and with everything  you do-."

Melody rolled her eyes. "You gotta be careful Sharon, you keep crying wolf and one day I'm not going to believe you and get my ass shot." She took a step forwards and her stance shook and for a moment Bucky was scared she was going to fall.

"Did you eat today?" Sharon asked at once.

"Yes," Melody answered with another eye roll. "Bucky cooked breakfast for  me."

Sharon looked back at him. "You cook?"

"Don't look so surprised Agent Carter," Bucky said with a grin. "But Melody's giving me too much credit. Her standards for meals are incredibly low it makes everything I do look like actual work."

Sharon nodded. "Yeah that's true." She smiled, this time looking more apologetic than relived. "Sorry I freaked. I just worry about you."

Melody smiled back. "Don't, the guys you go after won't find me. I'm no one. Not to them anyways."

"And thank God for that." The agent replied to which Melody nodded. "Mind if I steal Bucky for a bit? I could  use a little help unloading groceries."

Melody half-turned. "I can help."

"No," Sharon said a little too fast. "Sorry, I love you, but you really need to shower. Your hair looks awful."

Bucky stared at the agent. He didn't see what she was referring to. Melody's hair looked fine, shiny and soft like it usually was. He was about to say so, knowing Melody probably didn't need another smack on her self-image. She already didn't think much of her looks already, she didn't need to have her friend say stuff that fed the idea.

He was about to say so, but Sharon seemed to notice the arguement he was starting to form and shook her head ever so slightly. The subtle gesture stopped Bucky short-what was she doing?

Melody ran a hand through her hair and winced. "I...I guess you're right. I guess I-."

"Forgot to wash your hair?" Sharon finished. "What else is new? Go and clean up, Bucky and I can handle this."

"If you're sure," Melody said, still looking unsure.

"We are, go one and wash your hair, relax and enjoy the hot water like everyone else okay?"

"Okay," Melody still seemed subdued and the moment she was upstairs and out of view Bucky glared at Sharon.

"What are you doing that for?" he demanded. "She's already-."

"Outside," the agent said, her voice hard and clipped like she was giving orders on a recon mission. "Now."

The change quieted Bucky's annoyance for a moment. If she wanted to move the conversation outside he'd cooperate, but he fully intended to state his piece whether they were in the house on the on porch.

Bucky didn't care who Sharon was to Melody, she had no right to throw hits at the doctor's already weak self-image. He wouldn't allow it.

Once they were outside Bucky opened his mouth again, ready to pick up where he left off, but Sharon spoke first.

"You cannot leave her alone like that again, do you understand me?"

"What?"

"Do not leave Mel alone again, not for that long. It's too dangerous."

"No one knows she or I am here." Bucky said coolly.  "And even if they do we're both armed and I am pretty well trained. We'll be okay. And quit trying to change the subject, what I was trying to say earlier-."

"This isn't about Hydra!" Sharon hissed. "Mel can take care of herself, I know that. Girl's a good shot and she's smart. She'll survive with or without you helping her. That's not what I'm worried about."

Sharon's shoulder's tensed up and then she sighed, hiding her face in her hands. "Listen, when you grow up with a trailblazer in your family. It's both a blessing and a curse. I am so proud of what Aunt Peggy accomplished, but when I went into the same field she did...The pressure was intense. Trying to live up to that, knowing that I can't...It's hard. It's the reason I stopped telling people she and I were related. The pressure to live up to that was too much."

"This isn't about you," Bucky snapped, feeling pity stir in his chest but shutting it down in the same moment. Sharon's problems could wait until later, right now he was still more concerned about Melody's. "You're her friend, you have to know how insecure-.

"Mel though, she has the same thing," Sharon said, talking over him as she looked up, a frantic expression on her face. "John Frasier was a genius.  A surgical genius. He took on impossible cases and saved people who others never would have gone near. He even invented a suture and tried it out during an insane case. It saved the guy's life. It's called a 'Frasier stitch' now and he wasn't the one who named it!"

"You're trying to avoid the conversation!" Bucky accused.

"I'm trying to clue you in moron!" Sharon snapped. "Mel's different from me though. She's just as good as her dad, maybe better, I don't know, trauma and hearts are different but still..She's the best."

Bucky bit back a retort and breathed deeply. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying her dad was too. John Frasier was the best too and that's what broke him. He couldn't take the pressure of being the best and it drove him nuts. He shot himself Bucky! He killed himself in front of his daughter!"

"I know that! You told me! I've been better if that's what you're worried about." He couldn't keep thinking Melody knew nothing about pain when she saw something like that. It was pain, not like what he went through or as often, but just as horrible. Maybe in some ways, it was even worse. "I've been letting Melody-.

"It's not about that, not even close. I know you've been letting her help you. In fact, I think you've actually started to like her. Not surprising, she's pretty lovable when she's not pissed. But that's not what I mean. This has nothing to do with her taking care of you, it's about you taking care of her. I'll help too, but you're around her more than I am right now. You have to know the situation."

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asked, the anger slowly draining out of his body. It left him feeling cold, very cold and suddenly he thought he might need to sit down.

"Mel's got more pressure on her than I ever did. She's got her father's legacy to live up to and her own amazing reputation. She's the best, just like he was. She has her father's brilliance as a surgeon. Not in the same exact type of medicine but close enough. Everyone expected greatness when she became a doctor because her father was great and damn she delivered. Even Stephen Strange says she's good and that guy is an egoistical jerk."

"Melody's amazing," Bucky agreed, feeling an echo of her arm around his and her voice in his head lulling him to sleep. "I know that. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Pressure is what broke her dad Bucky," Sharon said, flopping down onto the front step and hanging her head. When she spoke again, her voice was weak and barely audible. "John Frasier couldn't handle being the best and he lost it. He put a bullet in his brain because of it. And Mel...I'm so scared she'll do the same thing."

Bucky's knees turned to rubber and he caught himself on the side of the house as a hundred images flashed through his mind. Melody's green eyes, glassy and unseeing as blood and brain matter pour down her face from the hole in her skull. A coffin and a tombstone that marked a too-short life.  Her laugh, her smile, her voice would be gone from the world forever. That fire in her eyes that made her fight to save lives.

They'd be gone and not because time had finally caught up with Melody and brought her to the end of a good life. It would be because she lost her own battle with ghosts in her head. They would drag her six feet under.

"I won't let that happen," Bucky said, more to himself than Sharon. "Has she...tried anything before?"

Sharon shook her head. "Not that I know of, but I worry that she might have the tendency. You know how she always wears elbow-length or long sleeved shirts?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, it's weird."

"I think she cuts herself, nothing lethal, not yet, but she's hiding the scars. She won't even undress in front of me or her coworkers. That's more than enough reason to worry."

"She was saying today," Bucky said, still talking to himself. "That the pain she feels loosing people, when they're in her OR and they don't make it-how it makes her feel. It makes her forget about the ones she's saved. The pain forces them out of her memory."

Sharon nodded. "I know, she's told me as much before."

"We can't let her do anything," Bucky said finally speaking to Sharon directly. "We can't let her get hurt."

"I agree," Sharon said. "So, do not leave her alone, at least not for any long span of time okay? And if she asks why, lie to her. Tell her you're afraid to be alone or something. If you make it sound like you need her she won't try and get away. She'll take care of you."

"I know that," Bucky looked at his shoes for a moment then sighed. "You didn't tell Melody her hair looked bad to criticize her did you?"

Sharon shook her head. "Not even close. The girl has the confidence of a wet mop. I can't fathom why. I wouldn't have said that if I felt like I didn't have a choice. I needed her to leave. If she knew I was telling you this, if she knew what I thought and if she is doing what I'm afraid she is doing she's going to get sneakier about it. She's going to try and hide more and that's even more dangerous."

"I agree," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I tried to bite your head off. I just..." He cut off, feeling that warmth from earlier rear up again and he tried to shut it down. He couldn't name it. Giving it a name would make it real. Giving it a name would make it hurt more later on.

"You don't want to see her get hurt," Sharon finished. "You want to take care of her because she takes care of everyone. I know. And thank you, she needs that, she won't admit it, but she needs it. She needs someone that reminds her to take care of herself. Apparently you're good at it, you make sure she eats on her crazy days."

Bucky shrugged. "It's the least I can do. I still don't get how a day jam-packed with surgery is her 'crazy' day but the day when a spy and a criminal show up on her doorstep that's under the 'normal' day for her."

Sharon laughed. "Mel's never really been normal though. She used to be weirder when we were in college. Had a serious touching phobia. I think part of the reason she chose medicine was to get over that."

"Touching phobia?" Bucky repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you put a hand on her shoulder and she'd jump three feet in the air." Sharon said with a laugh. "And then she'd wash her hands compulsively for ten minutes afterwards. It was weird. Mel laughed about it all the time though, said she was going to be a doctor so she'd get over it. I believed her then but not after I found out about John."

"He was probably the driving factor," Bucky agreed. "Thanks for the heads up Sharon. Thanks for trusting me."

"I don't have another choice. I can't leave my job because she'll catch on and things could get worse and I can't convince her to seek help because that would mean she has to take time off and she wouldn't take that well either."

"No," Bucky agreed. "She wouldn't. So, shouldn't we haul in groceries? Melody is probably getting out of the shower by now and she's going to wonder what the hell we were doing."

Sharon's face turned as pink as her scrubs. "Crap."

"What?"

"I never picked up groceries," Sharon muttered. "I just said that as an excuse to be out of the house. What are we going to do?"

Bucky frowned. She wasn't going to like this cover story. "Tell her that you needed my help to identify an agent. That you thought I might know him from back when I....well you know. Say that you didn't want to tell Melody because she wouldn't like that. Not helpful to patient care and all that stuff she talks about."

Sharon gave him an approving smile. "Good idea, Mel will kill me, but it's better than telling her the truth."

"Agreed," Bucky said. "Let's go back inside, she's been alone too long."

Sharon stood up and brushed her hands down her wrinkled scrubs. "Bucky, do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Make sure I'm not buried in this outfit after Mel kills me. I hate pink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	20. Twenty

Melody shuddered as the cold water splashed her face, making her gasp and wince at the icy temperature. However uncomfortable as the sensation was, however, it did have the desired effect. The cold shock woke her up, at least a little bit. Given how late at night it was coffee was no longer an option to stay awake so this was her next best route.

 _Though,_ she thought, turning the water off and brushing her newly washed hair from her face. _I would feel much better rested if I hadn't worn myself out yelling at Sharon. For someone as smart as her, I honestly can't believe she even did that._

James was certainly a tough man, but minds weren't like the rest of the body. Horrible memories could be triggered by the smallest of things and suddenly, what was once a calm, clear head was thrown into chaos and cut apart by traumatic memories. This held true for anyone, Melody knew that all too well and James's case was even worse.

Seventy-years of abuse, brain-washing and killing have left him with a lion's share of trauma and while he needed to deal with it, dragging it all up in the careless way Sharon had was not the way to do it. Not by a long shot.

Melody had certainly made sure Sharon would never forget that lesson again and was sure something so careless would never be repeated again, but still, it should never have been something that needed to be said in the first place.

 _Actions like that are the reasons blondes get a bad name,_ Melody thought to herself as she clipped her hair back. The shower had helped her look human, but weariness still leeched out of her reflection. She had shadows underneath her eyes and her skin was placid and pale like she was ill.

Nothing a good nights sleep wouldn't cure, but Melody already knew she wouldn't get one. She'd lost her ability to fall asleep easily since returning to the house and despite what he thought, James had nothing to do with any of it.

It wasn't his nightmares that woke Melody up every night, it was her own _._ Each time his screams started, she was already awake and waiting.

The room went out of focus as Melody felt her chest constrict and memories take hold.

_There was a rush of water from the tap, a peeling away of a bloody shirt and aches radiating all through Melody's body as her mom helped her step into the bathtub. Melody wanted to cry out as she got on her hands and knees, her back stretching out painfully, making blood run down her arms-!_

"Stop!" Melody growled to herself, slamming her hands down on the sink. The impact make the porcelain vibrate and her palms sting but it didn't matter. It was helpful right now. These sensations were _real._ They were _not_ in her head. These were actually happening right there in the present.

"Steak knife, glass, acceptance," Melody spat out the words quickly, reaching for a better memory. This one was more recent, the first time James finally let her do her job, the first time he accepted her help when she offered it.

Well, offered might have been too gentle a word, but either way the memory had the desired effect. The phantom pain on her back cleared away, her hands stopped trembling and she was back in the present where she belonged.

"Melody?" James's voice grabbed her attention, tearing her farther away from her past. His voice was tense, timid but not terrified. Still, it didn't stop her from responding, keeping a steady pace as she made her way to his room from where she'd been.

"What is it?"

"'Are you alive'?" He phrased it like a question to which Melody smiled and leaned against the doorway.

"You're alot more panicked when you have nightmares, so I know you didn't wake up from one when you called me. So what do you need?"

James hung his head, brown hair obscuring part of his face. The position suggested shame or embarrassment. "Are you still angry?"

"With Sharon?" she asked. "Oh yes. But I've never been angry with you if that's what you're worried about. You could never have said no. I know that." It was, in James's view, a chance to redeem himself. To take what Hydra had done and use it against them. Meldoy knew that feeling too. Once you found what you thought was your redemption, walking away wasn't possible.

He'd been trying to even the scales when he'd helped Sharon. Melody understood that. How could she even consider being upset about it? _He who saves one life saves the world in time._ The phrase echoed back in her memory, reminding her again of just how much she wanted that statement to be true.

"She wasn't trying to cause trouble," James said, looking up and glancing at her with his dark blue eyes. "She just-." He must have realized there was no way he was going to convince her to forgive Sharon because he dropped off the topic.

"I'm sorry your upset," he said finally. "That wasn't what either of us wanted to happen."

"You do not owe me an apology. Is that all you wanted to talk about?" Melody hoped it wasn't. She hoped, maybe today he'd be able to tell her about Hydra, about being the Winter Solider and everything that came with it.

She doubted it, but it didn't quash her hope. She knew she could help him if she knew what he was dealing with, no just a general idea but specifics. If she knew, truly knew what tormented him night after night, what he fought against during the day then she could give him the tools to hold them back.

"No," James said, getting that embarrassed looked on his face again. "I just had a request. I know it's stupid and I know you have work tomorrow-."

"Ask," Melody advised, shaking her head at him. She doubted his request was what he claimed. James never asked for much, in fact he'd never asked her for anything, just a safe place to hide and she doubted what he asked for now was anything but reasonable.

A blush stained his face red, clear even  underneath the dark stubble on his face. "Don't laugh."

"I don't have a sense of humor," Melody teased, inviting herself in the room and plopping down on the edge of his beg. "Just my interns."

"What's an intern?"

"I work in a teaching hospital," Melody explained. "I teach students fresh out of medical school what it takes to be a doctor. They do it for about a year, then they take an exam that decides whether or not they're ready to continue on as residents and learn more advanced techniques and be more independent in the cases they work."

"How many are you in charge of?"

"Four" Melody answered, smiling as she thought about them. Freddy Grill, Jean Rech, Martin Even and Isabella Ferdan. "They don't like me. Same as every other intern pool I've had since my first year as a resident. Those guys even gave me a name and it's stuck ever since, even now as an attending. My coworkers even get in on it."

James smiled, but that embarrassed blush still remained. "What do they call you?"

"Doctor Freezer."

James's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're kidding."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Nope. Too stupid to make up. At first it sort of stung but then I realized it's actually a compliment."

"How?" James asked, his tone disbelieving.

"They're referring to the fact that I never panic. Doing what I do, you see some nasty stuff. Half amputated limbs, guts on the wrong side of the body cavity-sorry that's gory." She caught sight of his pale face and looked shyly into her folded hands. "My point is, when you're trying to fix those things, you can't panic. You have to stay calm, you have to stay steady and you have to think ahead to fix the next disaster. And I can do that. I don't loose my head and I don't let my hands shake."

"Why does that matter?"

"You can't have trembling hands when you're trying to sew someone's skin back together or their organs. Not an option."

"You've done that?"

"I've scrubbed in a on a few cardio procedures ," Melody said. "It was a place I had thought to go before I decided to work in trauma and emergency medicine."

"Why'd you pick trauma of all things? Isn't it a bit depressing? Why not something more...hopeful, like something with kids?"

"You mean pediatrics?" Melody shook her head. "No way in hell would I go near that." The most fragile beings on the planet where children.The ones who were hurt the most by people who should have kept them safe and healthy. Melody could never watch something like that. She could never watch those children struggle for life.

"Why not? You don't like kids?"

"No," Melody said, "I love kids. That's the problem, I'd get too involved and be worse off for it." She sighed, hearing weeping in her mind, the soft sobs of the little girl, the one she couldn't save and the one who'd died as a result of her failure.

That loss still stung, still bled and watching others cases like it just rubbed salt into the wound.

"You never answered my question," James pointed out, grabbing her hand, as though he could hear the child crying too and was trying to comfort her. "Why'd you pick trauma?"

"Because of this," Melody reached into her pocket, pulling out her key chain and handing it to James who took it in his right hand and traced the words with his left, the silver of the hand stark against the gold of the chain. She watched as he mouthed the words, a questioning expression formed on his face.

"'He who saves one life saves the world in time'?" He said aloud, still wearing that expression. "Doesn't this apply to all surgeries then?"

"Yes, but I think it's even more applicable to trauma. The people who end up on my table, they're in bad shape. It's a fight just to keep their hearts beating sometimes. If I can save people that are like that, that are so close to death, maybe I'm capable of more than I feared."

James frowned and handed the key chain back to her. "What do you mean?"

"I'll explain in the morning," Melody promised. It was too hard to explain now, her secret to keeping calm. Too hard to explain how she looked at the problem when she operated and ignored the person. It was too late to even attempt to help James understand what she did and frankly she was too tired to try at the moment.  "So, what did you want again? You never said."

The blush came back again. "You know that thing you did the other night?"

"I remember," she'd revealed one of her greatest secrets is what she had done. It worked but it had been an embarrassing experience for her, sharing her voice with James. She never sang for anyone, she never used it to create music for anyone but her. She never used it for anything except to drown out the ghosts in her head that liked to scream.

Melody had done the same thing last night, except this time it hadn't been her ghosts, they had been James's. It had worked and it had worked well, he'd fallen asleep and stayed that way through the night.

His face turned an even deeper shade of red. "Can  you do that again? I mean, it worked last time and..." James stopped talking and hung his head again. "Of course, like I said, I know you have-."

"Lay down," Melody told him, sliding closer and wrapping her hand around his.

James smiled tiredly at her and did as she asked. "Thank you."

 _Don't thank me yet_ , she thought to herself. "Any requests?"

"No."

"No complaints then," Melody reminded him, teasing. She shut her eyes, unable to look at him for a moment and then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes and started to sing. " _I hope you never lose your sense of wonder/you get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger_..."

Melody had always liked that song when she first heard it. It gave her hope, the lyrics were inspiring and the melody of the song was soothing-good for sleep. And sure enough, as she went through the verses, Bucky's eyes began to close and his breathing became more and more relaxed.

As soon as the last note faded out, he was asleep. Or at least asleep enough that Melody could leave.

She sat up, ready to depart carefully and quietly but the moment she tried to move another motion stopped her. James had begun moving, his arm reaching and wrapping around her waist as he rolled over as he slept.

Melody was effectively trapped once again. _Great,_ she thought. _What am I supposed to do if I wake him up?_ She wouldn't dare move now, James needed to sleep and he rarely got any as it was, but that wasn't what worried her.

She was awake now, aware and careful not to disturb the person beside her. That would easily change when she was asleep. If she dreamed, if she thrashed about or screamed...James would wake up and worse still, he'd probably panic and fear attack.

 _Calm down Mel,_ she thought sternly to herself, already seeing his fearful expression and amazing strength ripping the room apart. _You won't dream, you don't dream every night. Just last night and this afternoon, you won't dream again._

The words did nothing to assure her however, the ghosts were back, the gun was going off again. Loud and blasting through her skull.

Melody shut her eyes and muttered to herself. "Gunshot, O-negative, blood drive." The sounds cleared away, as Melody pictured Jackson Tucker, a mugging victim who'd come into the hospital they day they held their annual blood drive-he'd lost a great deal of blood and thankfully, one of the donors present had been a match.

He'd made it.

Melody felt a slight pressure on her stomach as James snored and then realized it had been him. His hand had twitched while he slept, but not in the reckless thrashing panic that a nightmare brought. Just a plain old twitch.

Sighing, Melody reached out one hand, steady and sure, just like she always was and brushed some of his shaggy hair from his face. _He looks so peaceful when he sleeps,_ she thought, _at least when he doesn't have nightmares._

"Lullaby, request, dreamless," Melody sighed under her breath as she watched James sleep. "That is how I'm going to remember this night. Thank you James, for giving me a good memory."

Melody shut her eyes then, her mind finally quiet, or at least devoid of screaming, pain and bullet wounds. At least for now and it was thanks to James-she'd have to find some way to thank him for it later.

Just without letting him know exactly what he did. He could never know about the ghosts that liked to prowl about her mind late at night when she slept. No one could ever know. They'd never look at her the same way again.

Melody wouldn't be Doctor 'Freezer' anymore, she'd go from being someone who saved lives to someone had been broken by her own and was too unstable to practice medicine. She could never let that happen. She'd lose everything then. She'd lose the only thing that ever mattered to her. And that could never happen.

Melody would not allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for the day! This time in Melody's POV! What are we thinking? I'd love to hear from you guys if you can spare the time! Thanks for reading! :)


	21. Twenty-One

Bucky developed a new routine of his own after Sharon told him of her concerns about Melody.

In many ways, nothing had changed. Melody still worked her crazy hours at the hospital, Bucky still made her breakfast in the morning and shouted at her to eat lunch as she scurried out the doorway towards her truck. She'd return at the same odd hours, either at seven o'clock or later and Bucky would throw something together for her to eat. They'd talk for a while, about nothing and everything and that was where Bucky saw changes.

He tried to make her laugh now, remembering what she seemed to find funny and being rewarded by the smile she'd give him when she laughed. The sight always amazed Bucky, but now it made that warm feeling bloom in his stomach again. The one he couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard he tried.

Then there was the matter of when the night grew darker, when it was time to get some rest and sleep. In some ways that nightly routine hadn't changed, Bucky's ghosts still attacked him and Melody's "are you alive" question still helped wrestle him from their grip. But a few things had changed there too.

Melody never hurried across the hall from her room anymore, now she was right next to him. Part of that was Bucky's own fault though. He worried about her being alone. During the day, while she was at work, Bucky wasn't concerned about her doing anything harmful to herself, she was surrounded by too many people and needed to avoid injury for the sake of her patients. She'd never endanger them.

When she got home, she wasn't alone then either, Bucky was with her, but at night, when he was asleep, that was a time when she would have a chance to do something if she wanted to. His solution to that had been one of trickery, but effective all the same.

He'd tried it out the same night Sharon had warned him about it all. When he'd asked Melody to sing him to sleep, it hadn't been just because he wanted to keep his nightmares away, though it had been an inspiration to him. It had been so he could keep her close by.

As she'd sang to him, he'd pretended to fall asleep and when he felt her try and leave, he'd made his move, holding her close so she wouldn't dare move. Melody cared too much about his welfare to wake him up when he finally got rest. Bucky knew that from the first time she'd tried to help him keep his nightmares away with her singing.

His plan had worked and now, after a few weeks, Melody had given up the idea of trying to leave after Bucky had fallen asleep. Now she came dressed in her pajamas and got comfortable before she sang to him.

And though he didn't need to do it, Bucky still made sure he held Melody. He wanted to say it was a fail safe measure, but Bucky knew it was a lie. It was because he liked that warm feeling Melody could bring out in him and whenever he touched her it was even more intense than usual.

Tonight was no different either as Melody crawled underneath the covers and rolled over to look at him. "Any requests?"

Bucky smiled, giving the same answer he did every night. "No." He didn't care what she sang-it never mattered. Her voice was soothing no matter what. "And yes, I know that means I can't complain."

Melody smiled at him and Bucky felt that warmth stir up again. "Smart." She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and started to sing. As per usual, Bucky had never heard it before, but it didn't matter. The soft, bell-like sound of Melody's singing was relaxing. It was real, familiar and completely Melody. No one could ever replicate it. It wasn't something Bucky could forget.

Before he knew it, the sound began to fade out as Bucky went off to sleep. Same as every other night.

***

Bucky wasn't sure if he was dreaming at first when he heard the screams. But when he opened his eyes and they remained loud as ever he realized they weren't in his head.

"Melody?" he sat upright, straining his eyes in the dark to see her. She was restless, moving as though she was trying to escape restraints and screaming in fear or pain. Bucky wasn't sure which but one thing was sure, she was dreaming.

"Melody wake up!" Bucky reached out, shaking her by the shoulder, hoping the touch of another person might help pull her out of her nightmare.

He was wrong.

Melody's eyes snapped open and at first he'd been relived. Then she attacked, her hand snaking out and grabbing the knife on the nightstand and driving it into Bucky's arm-the one that was still human.

The blade sunk into the flesh, burning as it went and Bucky leaped backwards, clutching his arm and growling in pain. The sound seemed to shock Melody and she blinked several times, bright eyes darting around the dark room and trying to make sense of her surroundings.

Bucky heard the lamp click on and the dark room flooded with light. Melody's face was bone white when she saw the knife in her hand and Bucky's bleeding arm.

"Oh God," she whispered, her hand shaking so violently she dropped the blade which plopped onto the mattress and left a dark patch of blood. "James, what did I do?"

"You were having a nightmare," Bucky said through gritted teeth, watching blood pour through his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. "I tried to wake you up and you attacked me."

"Oh God," Melody muttered, hands shaking as she reached out to him, as though to help but drew her hands back half a second later. "Oh God James, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to, I-I thought I was still...Oh God." She buried her face in her hands, the blood on her right hand leaving a smear of red across her cheek.

"Hey, easy," Bucky said, wishing he could touch her but he figured his bloody hands would just terrify her more. "It was an accident."

"I knew what I was doing, kind of." Melody replied, "I knew I was stabbing someone when I moved."

"Did you know it was me?" Bucky asked.

"No, not until you screamed."

"Then it was an accident," Bucky concluded. "You didn't mean to hurt me." An involuntary hiss escaped him as another wave of pain radiated up his arm. "But in all honesty, that was a really impressive maneuver." He was surprised at how fast she was, he hadn't expected that.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Melody muttered, apparently not hearing his attempt at a joke as she grabbed the knife again, this time cutting into the blood-stained blanket and shearing off a section of cloth.

"Calm down," Bucky said, watching her hands continue to shake as she approached him again with the strip of cloth. "It's alright. I'm fine, I'm not hurt-at least not that badly. This is nothing."

Melody wasn't listening to that either as she grabbed his injured arm and pressed the cloth into his shoulder where the stab wound was. "Come on," she muttered. "You need stitches and I have a suture kit in the kitchen."

"Don't you mean suture kits?" he asked. "The cabinet underneath the sink is full of them."

Melody still didn't respond to his attempt to distract her and Bucky thought about what else he could try as she led him downstairs, no longer trembling but still shaken given her uncharacteristic silence.

"Melody," Bucky tried again as she led him into the kitchen and flipped on a light. "I'm okay, really, it's fine."

She still didn't answer, but began tearing open the suture kit and getting the tools ready to work.

Bucky licked hisÂ  dry lips, trying to think of something else to say. "Um, are you alive?" Melody always said the whole point of the question was to be bizarre enough to shock him and pull him out of his nightmares. It worked on Bucky, perhaps it would work on Melody too.

It didn't, Melody didn't answer, but snapped on a pair of disposable gloves andÂ  began to work. Her hands were steady this time, not trembling with fear and her eyes were not open with horror or fear as she studied the stab wound. They were focused, intent on what she was doing and for about twenty minutes there was no sound in the kitchen save the sound of their breathing and Melody opening a pack of gauze.

Finally, when she was satisfied the wound was no longer exposed, Melody set down her needle and her hand began shaking again.

"Stay here," she muttered. "I have some Advil in the cabinet, it'll help with the pain. That numbing salve doesn't last forever and what's more your arm is going to be sore tomorrow. I am so sorry."

"Hey," Bucky reached out with metal arm and grabbed her hand as she walked by, effectively stopping her motion. "Quit apologizing, you were having a nightmare. It's not your fault."

Melody pulled her hand away but didn't start walking again. Bucky took that as a good sign.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked, fearing the answer. The reaction she'd had was extreme, it was like the ones he had on occasion. He didn't know what could inspire that in Melody but he knew he needed to find out if he wanted to be of any help to her if and when it happened again.

Melody drew her arms around herself. "I don't remember."

"I don't believe you. Pain leaves strong memories right?" Bucky knew full well that Melody wouldn't take too kindly to being pushed on the issue but that didn't matter. This wasn't like the three doors she demanded stay shut at all times for undisclosed reasons. This wasn't something Bucky could just sweep underneath the rug and let be-this had proved a bit too dangerous for that.

"I honestly don't remember, at least not that much." Melody insisted, strain and fear obvious in her voice and stance. "I just...I was trying to save my life. That's all I can remember."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He made her the same offer she gave him every time his nightmares woke him up. But even as the words left his mouth, Bucky knew she would turn it down.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said, her voice harder than Bucky expected it to be. "But thank you. And really, I am so-."

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'sorry' I'm going to tickle you," Bucky warned. He had no idea if Melody would actually be effected by that but it would at least maybe deter another pointless and unwarranted apology.

"I'm not ticklish."

Bucky shrugged. "Either way please stop with the apologies. Like I've been saying for the past twenty minutes, it was an _accident_. You _don't_ need to apologize."

"I hurt you," Melody whispered. "My hand was on that knife."

"You missed," Bucky said with a dismissive shrug. "If you were trying to do any real damage you'd have gone for my face or my chest."

"I didn't miss James," Melody said, leaning over the sink and rinsing the blood off her hands. "I never do."

"Are you some sort of marksman then?" Bucky teased. "Go to the shooting range every once and a while?"

"Actually yes," she answered as she turned off the water. "I _am_ a marksman."

"You shoot?"

"I own a gun remember? You think I wouldn't know how to use it? And what's more, my job is all about accuracy. I _can't afford_ to miss."

Bucky had actually forgotten that. Melody was so devoted to saving lives, devoted to medicine. The idea that she'd know how to use a weapon and cause harm didn't fit with that image.

"IÂ  did forget," he admitted. "I won't do that again."

"It's fine." Melody sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your pain?"

"One," Bucky said. His arm didn't really hurt per se, but it didn't feel normal either. A slight ache at the worst. "I'm fine."

Melody didn't look convinced, but she let the matter go. "You should go back to bed. I'll clean up the mess."

"You have to work tomorrow," Bucky disagreed. "You should be getting your rest too. I can handle this." _And there's no way I'm leaving you alone,_ he thought. _Not after that happened. You're going to beat yourself up for it all night._

If she was alone with that thought and replaying everything in her head again and again Bucky was scared he wouldn't be the only one who needed stitches tonight. There was no way he was going to give Melody that chance.

"It's my mess."

"How many of mine have you cleaned up? Remember when I trashed the living room and impaled my hand on a steak knife? You picked that up."

"You cleaned up my coffee when I dropped my mug," Melody countered.

"You stay awake with me every time I have a nightmare," Bucky said, stepping closer and placing his good hand on Melody's shoulder. "You help me through them no matter how tired you are. It won't kill me to help you through yours."

"James," Melody protested but he cut her off, wrapping his arm around her and holding her against his chest. A backward hug but he didn't think she'd turn around to face him right now.

"I won't go to sleep until you do," he told her. "I can't do that." _I can't leave you when you're like this,_ he added in his mind. _I can't leave you when you're in pain._

He waited for a response and for several tense seconds he didn't get one. Then that changed. He felt a slight pressure over his hand, probably Melody's own and he heard her sigh.

"Let's just leave it til morning," she said. "We can crash in my room, but first," she shrugged out of his embrace and walked towards the cabinet. She opened it, grabbing a small bottle of pills and tipping the contents out into her hand.

"Take two of these and call me in the morning."

Bucky held out his hand and then tipped the pills into his mouth and not half a second later Melody handed him a glass of water to help get them down.

"Bleh," he muttered. "I hate that."

Melody gave him a tired smile. "Me too."

"Then come on," he said, holding out his hand again and offering it to her. "Let's go back to bed."

Melody eyed him warily for a moment and then laced her fingers through his. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Bucky led Melody back up the stairs and despite the dull ache in his arm and the pale shade of her face, he still felt that warmth again. She'd let him take care of her, Melody hadn't pushed him away like she might have done. She'd told him once that people lashed out when they were wounded and that not all wounds bled.

Bucky knew nothing had cut open Melody tonight, but he was sure she had bleeding wounds in another place, but she hadn't tried to shut him out. At least not that much and had even allowed him to comfort her.

That left Bucky feeling good, at peace despite the stress of the night and when he settled down next to Melody again, he didn't even bother at the pretense of bothering to sleep, he wrapped his arm around and pulled her close.

"Go to sleep Doctor Frasier," he instructed. "You won't have that nightmare again, promise."

Melody made some sort of noise in the back of her throat but nothing more in reply and Bucky didn't shut his eyes, not until he was sure she was asleep. Something told him he wasn't going to dream either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry for not updating yesterday, I was five kinds of busy and didn't have the time to get to my laptop. Thanks for reading! :)


	22. Twenty-Two

When Bucky awoke the next morning, he was alone and just as Melody had predicted his arm hurt like a bitch.

"Ugh," he sat up, clutching his shoulder as though some type of pressure would ease the hot throbbing that was running up and down his arm. "She really knew what she was doing, I'll give her that. And she's apparently good at sneaking out." He hadn't even noticed when she'd left.

Bucky yawned and tossed the covers off. The clear white color of the duvet reminded him that his own was probably stained with blood.

_I'll clean it up before she gets home,_ he decided. Melody had felt so horrible the other night and Bucky was sure looking at his bandaged shoulder for the next week would be reminder enough of the incident. She didn't need more.

_But first, food,_ he thought, feeling his stomach rumble and growl with hunger. Oh gosh, I hope Melody ate something before she left. If he was remembering correctly her day was going to see her in and out of the OR. In short, a crazy day by her standards. Melody tended to forget basic self-care on those days.Â  Well, regardless of whether or not Melody's single minded determination to do her job well already made her forget to take care of herself Bucky would at least make sure she was fed and rested when she got home.

Bucky made his way to the kitchen, wondering if it might be worthwhile to call Sharon and ask about Melody's nightmares. He didn't know if she knew anything about their existence-but she might have known what created those nightmares in the first place. He knew from personal experience nothing that extreme was just built in the mind. It was created by external events and the memories of it came back when they were least wanted. He knew that all too well.

"Bucky don't panic, I'm downstairs," Sharon's voice halted his descendant down the stairs.

"Sharon?" he called back. "What are you doing here?"

"There's something you need to know."

"Is Steve alright?" Bucky asked, leaping the last of the stairs and skidding into the kitchen where Agent Carter was waiting. "Has something happened to him?"

He knew Steve had been looking for him since their last encounter and though Bucky knew he'd never reach his goal, it didn't mean Steve wouldn't manage to find plenty of other people-and most would probably want to kill him.

"He's fine," Sharon said instantly as she poured out a cup of coffee. "He's upset about the lack of leads, but he's fine. He's even dating now."

"Oh, good." Bucky slumped against the counter, relief sweeping through him. "So what's the problem? Has someone else caught onto me?"

"No again," Sharon took a long gulp of coffee. "Wait-did something happen? Your arm," she pointed towards the gauze, mouth drawing together in a hard line. "Did someone break in?"

Her observation of his injury brought the pain back into focus. He rubbed at his arm and strode around the agent, grabbing the bottle of Advil Melody had shown him the night before.Â    
He tossed the pills back into his mouth and swallowed them before addressing Sharon again.

"No, there wasn't a break in. It was an accident."

"What happened?"

"That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," he said as he grabbed an apple out of fruit basket on the island. "See, this happened last night. Melody was having a nightmare, I tried to shake her out of it but it didn't work, at least not right away. She attacked me first."

Sharon went pale again but other than that seemed rather calm. "Well that's interesting. Being honest, in that situation I was sure it would be you doing the attacking."

"You and me both," he agreed taking a bite out of the apple. The fruit broke open with a crunch and juice ran down his chin. "So, has that happened before?"

Sharon shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of, but I wouldn't be surprised. When New York was attacked, well that wasn't a good place to be. It makes sense she's still got a bit of trauma left to deal with."

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think it was New York. Melody was just trapped in a collapsed subway tunnel wasn't she?"

"Yeah, but she had at least three critical patients surrounding her and no way of knowing if or when help would show up. Wouldn't you call that traumatizing?"

"I would."

"Then that's probably what it was. Maybe she was dreaming about the aliens coming back to Earth."

_"I was trying to save my life."Â_ Bucky recalled Melody's words from the night before. She was trapped in New York, trying to save other people-not herself. She wasn't being attacked then. Whatever Melody had been dreaming about, it hadn't been the invasion.

"Thanks for clearing that up," Bucky said finally. "So what did you need to tell me if Steve's fine and no one knows where I am."

"It's just a warning, I should have remembered yesterday but I forgot while Melody was yelling at me."

"Don't blame you," Bucky said, grinning in sympathy. "That was a terrifying sight. I was relieved when she got to the end of her rant and I was just watching it happen." Truly, he'd never seen Melody so angry before and it had been unsettling to watch her go from being so determined to care for others to being ready to rip their throats out.

"Just imagine being the subject of her rage," Sharon invited. "But anyway, keep a close eye on Melody tonight. Today is going to be a hard day for her."

Bucky frowned. "Did she lose a patient?"

"No, not that I know of. I hope not. I really hope everyone who's under her knife pulls through today." A look of horror crossed Sharon's face as she realized what she'd said. "Well, I hope that every day, but today especially, Mel really needs that to happen."

"And I'm going to assume the reason is why you came here?"

"Yes." Sharon took another sip of coffee and sighed deeply and when she glanced up again Bucky was shocked to see that she had tears in her eyes. "John Frasier died fourteen years ago today. It's the anniversary of his death."

Bucky's blood turned to ice. "Thanks for the warning."

"Take care of my friend," was all Sharon said. "Please."

"Why don't you swing over when she gets off?" Bucky offered, averting his eyes as Sharon wiped at her eyes. "We can make dinner and throw in some pointless movie and pretend to enjoy it. Take her mind off things."

"Bucky," Sharon said, dumping the rest of her coffee into the sink and popping the collar of hear brown leather jacket. "Do you really think she's going to think for one second we're just spending a nice night in? On toady of all days? She'll see right through us."

Bucky sighed, frustrated with Sharon's logic. Melody would see through them in under a minute, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Do you have any advice? Something she likes to do that might take her mind off things?"

Sharon shook her head. "I honestly don't know. As long as I've known Mel, she...She's never been like other people. I mean, we took her out to the bars in college, the campus parties, I've invited her to every Christmas and special occasion my family has thrown because I know she doesn't have one to be with. And she comes along sometimes, but not often," Sharon sighed and ran a hand over her face, her stance hunched over and tired.

"You okay?" Bucky asked. "You look tired."

"The job is stressful right now," she said. "I'm keeping people off your trail and that's been rougher than I thought."

"I'm sorry," he said instantly. "Sharon, I haven't said it yet, but thank you. Thank you for what you're doing for me." Bucky realized how late this was and felt heat rush to his face. "I can't ever repay you and I know that, but if there is ever anything you need from me, tell me and I'll do whatever I can."

He had no idea what Sharon could ever need from him, but whatever it was he would try

Sharon smiled at him. "Then I'll cash that in now, take care of Melody. She's my best friend and I can't lose her. Not like that."

Bucky didn't need to ask to know what "that" meant. "I will do everything I can." He just didn't want to ask what Sharon would do when he left. When there was no one to be with Melody at all hours of the day.

Honestly, he didn't want to know the answer either. It scared him too.

There was a jangle of keys and Sharon turned to face Bucky again. "Oh and this, before I forget," she reached into her purse and dug around a second before withdrawing a picture frame. "Give this to Mel for me. I tracked this down forÂ  her, as far as I know she doesn't have any pictures of her family. Her mom didn't allow them after...after it happened."

She handed over the frame and Bucky flipped it over. Underneath the glass, a photograph greeted him. One of the faces he knew, two he didn't.

The only face he knew was Melody's-just a much younger version than he was used to. She might have been eight or nine in the photo. Her hair was long, longer than Bucky had ever seen it. The gold strands hung far past her shoulders and she had several gaps in her teeth as she smiled at the camera.

Sitting next to her in a dark red blouse was a woman with the same wavy blonde hair, smiling as well, one arm around her daughter. Moria, if he remembered correctly. Melody's mother. Standing behind both women wasÂ  tall, broad shouldered man with grey-streaked hair and the same green eyes and just like his wife and daughter, John was smiling too.

Bucky pressed his fingertips to the glass and the metal made a ticking noise against it. "They look so happy."

Sharon nodded. "I know. That was taken almost four years before he shot himself."

Bucky looked at the image again. At the frozen faces of Melody and her parents. None of them knew what awaited them just a few short years later. None of them knew how short their time together was going to be.

"I'll make sure she gets the picture," Bucky promised.

"Thanks," was the answer he got back. "I'll be back in a few days. Steve is going to Boston tomorrow to look for you and I said I'd come along. I said it was to help, but honestly it's just for moral support. He's going to be disappointment when he turns up empty-handed again." The agent paused and looped her long hair into a messy bun. "He misses you, Bucky. Steve misses you a lot."

Bucky sighed. "I'm not the guy he misses anymore."

"I think you're more like him than you think." Sharon said with a shrug. "Whether you can see it or not. Have a good night Bucky. Take care of my friend."

_I'd do that even if you didn't ask me to,_ Bucky thought. _I'd never forgive myself if Melody got hurt on my watch._

The idea of Melody being hurt made Bucky's stomach turn. It made his chest ache in response just thinking about it. Bucky didn't know many people anymore, but he knew Melody was one of the few who did not deserve to be in pain. She deserved to be happy and she deserved to have peace. Bucky wasn't sure he could help her achieve any of those things but it certainly wasn't going to stop him from trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	23. Twenty-Three

Melody returned home several hours later, hair messy and exhausted but smiling widely despite it.

"Good day?" Bucky asked, setting down a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

"I helped remove a tumor the size of a baseball today," Melody answered, shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth and grinning.

"Um, that's good?" Bucky didn't see how anyone could be excited about a mass of cells the size of a baseball but Melody apparently was.

"It is! It was a once in a life time operation and I was there for it! And now, he might actually have a chance to beat the cancer now that we got so much out. It'll be a long road, but it's a first step."

Bucky took a bite of toast and shook his head. He'd never seen someone get so excited about a tumor before. Personally they'd never interested him either, but Melody's shining excitement made him care. "That's amazing," he said. "You're amazing." Melody blushed and stole a piece of toast off Bucky's plate. "Did I burn your toast?" he teased as Melody munched on the bread.

"No, it just tastes better when I take it from you." She polished off the last of the toast and reached for another piece. "So how was your day? You get a chance to write in your journal?"

"No, Sharon came by and I got caught up talking with her. She had something she wanted me to give you." Bucky opened the drawer he'd hidden the photograph in and handed it to Melody.

Her eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her mouth when she looked at the image. "She tracked it down for you. Sharon remembered that your mom didn't allow photos of all of you so she thought it was time you got to change that."

"I'll have to thank her," Melody muttered, setting the photo down and attacking her food once again.

"Do you own those movies? _Star Base_?"

"Do you mean _Star Wars_?" Melody corrected.

"Yeah," Bucky said, polishing off the last of his eggs. "That one." He didn't really care about them, but Sharon had mentioned them to him when they'd first started talking. Said she was taking Steve to watch them.

"I do, why?"

"Can we watch it tonight?" he asked. "I haven't seen them before and they must be good because I kept hearing about them when I was on missions. Well kind of." Being honest Bucky didn't care one way or another about _Star_ _Wars_ , but he thought it would be a good distraction for Melody and a good excuse to keep her close by.

She smiled at him and as always, that warm feeling Bucky wouldn't put a name to stirred up again. "I still can't believe you haven't seen _Star Wars._ It's astounding to me."

"Hydra didn't exactly have movie theaters Melody."

"I know," she replied. "And yes, we can watch them. I've got them upstairs in my room. Want to go and grab them while I do the dishes?"

"I can help you out," he offered, studying the utensils they'd been using. Just two forks, not very sharp, but they would still cut if pressed hard enough against the skin. He didn't want to leave her alone with them.

"Go and get the movies," Melody said with a roll of her eyes, grabbing his plate even as she grabbed her own and set them in the sink. "They're in my closet, top shelf I'll be done before you even get back downstairs. Go on. Besides, isn't water bad for metal?"

"Shut up," he muttered, feeling his stomach twist again. Bucky didn't want to leave. He didn't want to give her a moment alone that she could use to harm herself, but he couldn't think of any reasonable excuse to stay. Not at least one that wouldn't tip her off to his and Sharon's worries.

Melody turned on the faucet. "Just go. The sooner you're back and sooner we can set things up."

Bucky forced a smile. "Fine, you win."

"As I do in all things," Melody replied with a grin of her own.

Bucky turned away from her, his heart heavy with fear in his chest. _Calm down_ , he told himself. _You won't be gone long enough for her to do anything._

With that thought in mind Bucky made his way upstairs towards Melody's room, he was about halfway there when he realized how wrong he was.

The sound of shattering glass echoed up the stairs and froze him solid for one moment. For a moment Bucky hoped in his worry that he was imagining the noise. But it continued, the banging, breaking noises continued and there was a loud sob not far behind.

_Oh God_ , Bucky thought spinning around and sprinting back downstairs. _Melody_!

He ignored the stairs as he ran, merely jumping them. He'd done similar things on the assignments Hydra had put him on. All Bucky had to do was roll when landed.

He landed with a hard thud, pain radiated up his right arm as he rolled it over the hardwood floors but he ignored it.

That pain was nothing compared to what he feared would greet him when he got back the kitchen.

"Melody!" Bucky shouted, hearing the sound of more plates and glassware breaking. He skidded to a halt and catching himself on the island. "Stop it!""

The sight before him wasn't what Bucky had expected but it made his heart stop beating. Melody was sobbing, tears streaming down her hand, her wet hands were covered in small cuts as she threw two more plates into the sink and there was a starburst of glass shards and soapy water.

Stop!" Bucky shouted again, running forward intending to restrain Melody but she seemed to read him with ease.

She side-stepped and Bucky slammed into the sink, broken shards pressing into his skin through his shirt.

"Melody," he spun around, watching with horror as she hurled a crystal glass at the far wall which exploded into shards upon impact. "Stop!"

She didn't seem to hear him, still crying as se ducked around the island, grabbing the photograph Sharon had found for her and her hands tightened around the frame so strongly her knuckles turned bone white.

She stared at the image a moment and blinked, sending more tears down her bloody face and then with a savage yell she slammed it against the counter top and the frame broke apart instantly.

Melody didn't even pause as she reached into the glass and grabbed the photo which she began to tear into shreds. She was so intent on the task that Bucky was able to sneak around her and restrain her. His arms locked around her, pinning her own to her sides and Bucky was relived as he saw that she hadn't been cut up too badly in her destructive fit.

But that relief was washed away when he spotted something else; a scar on her bicep, just above the crook of her elbow. He didn't know how long it was, but it was a straight cut. It wasn't a random attack or mistake made one day. It was deliberate.

Sharon was right.

"Melody," Bucky said, voice hoarse as she struggled against him. "Stop this! Stop doing this! Melody please! Please stop!" His voice took on a pleading edge. Bucky wasn't giving an order now, he was begging and hoping his pleas would be heard.

They weren't, Melody continued to thrash and fight him. It made Bucky's arm burn with pain but he didn't let up. He knew if he let go Melody would continue where she left off, destroying her parents house.

It was that thought that gave him an idea. A new tactic. "Melody," Bucky said. "This is your parents house. This is your father's house, do you really think he'd want you-?"

_"It's a lie_!" Melody sobbed, her voice silencing Bucky's pleas. "It's all a lie," her voice went soft and she stopped fighting him, but her entire body trembled as she gasped for air and cried.

"Melody," Bucky whispered, kneeling and bringing her down with him. She didn't fight that either, she even leaned against him. "Melody it's okay."

She stopped struggling a little, head tilting to one side. Her excursion was catching up with her and her adrenaline was running out.

_She might pass out_ , Bucky thought which was both a relief and worry for him. Asleep Melody wouldn't be a danger to herself but it would also leave him more time to ponder just how long she'd been cutting herself.

Bucky feared that answer.

Melody slumped against him, breathing hard and shaking and Bucky felt a portion of his shirt grow wet as she continued to cry.

"It's okay," he whispered again, hoping to soothe her. "You're okay." Thinking things had calmed down enough, Bucky reached up with one arm and stroked Melody's hair. Some of the strands had gotten damp from the sink, but the strands didn't stick to the lines in the metal of his fingertips.

"It's okay," Bucky said once again, not even sure if Melody could hear a word he said. "You're not alone," he continued to stroke her hair, whispering words of comfort, occasionally drifting off into Russian in his own distraught state of mind.

Bucky had no idea how long he sat on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and holding Melody as she wept but it didn't matter.

What mattered was that he was there and that she wasn't alone. What mattered was that, as far as he knew, Melody was unhurt and out of danger.

And that knowledge meant more to Bucky than anything in that moment. More than the burning pain in his injured arm or the stinging cuts that he'd acquired during Melody's rampage.

They were worth getting, worth dealing with if it meant she was safe.

Finally, the doctor's tears stopped and her breathing relaxed along with her tense limbs.

She was asleep. Bucky sighed and stood up, sweeping her into his arms and the movement did nothing to wake her up.

_Good_ , he thought. Bucky would need time to clean up this mess and he wouldn't get it with Melody being awake.

He walked carefully around the broken glass which covered a fair amount of the floor. And then, when he got into the living room, he laid Melody on the couch and grabbed a blanket from the chair and draped it over her.

Through this, again, she stayed asleep. Bucky sighed looking at her red and tear-streaked face.

She was in pain, so much pain. And Bucky shuddered to think what might have happened if she had been left to deal with it alone.

_I can't lose you_ , Bucky thought as he gently brushed a strand of hair from Melody's sleeping face. _Melody, I can't lose you. I..._ He couldn't let himself think the word. The one word that explained the warm feeling Melody created in him when she smiled and the paralyzingly fear that gripped him when he thought of loosing her.

Bucky sighed and looked at her a moment longer and then, when he was certain she was still asleep he turned away.

He had a lot of work ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Melody's had a breakdown-any theories as to why? I'd love to hear from you! Thanks for reading! :)


	24. Twenty-Four

Melody's eyes were slow to open and dry when she woke up. And it took her a moment to resister her surroundings.

_I'm in the living room?_ She wondered, sitting up and feeling a blanket slide off her shoulders to the couch she was resting on. _How'd I get here?_

She looked around, staring out the windows which were still pitch black. It was the middle of the night. Or at least very, very early in the morning.

Once she realized that, Melody became aware of a few other things besides her dry eyes. Her head ached, throbbing in time with her heartbeats. Her arms were achy and heavy and as she looked down she saw something that made her heart stop beating.

Her left sleeve was pulled up past her elbow and part of her scar was visible. _Oh no!_ She yanked the fabric back down, a cold feeling settling over her body as the events of the other night came back to her.

The photo. The lie it told. It had been too much to bear. The ghosts had been released from their cages and wrecked havoc. Suddenly everything had been too much. The plates, the kitchen, the memories that lurked around all of them.

_"You're so lucky Moria," a friend said as they sat around the table for dinner. "This china is lovely."_

_"Thank you," was the reply as her mother sipped at her wine. "It was a gift from John for my birthday."_

_"He's so thoughtful," the woman had said. "You're so lucky to have him."_

Oh how wrong she had been. Moria had not been lucky to have John as a husband. Melody had not been lucky to have him as a father. They'd been cursed.

The photograph. Melody could see how false her smile at been. And though they were well-hidden by Moria, she knew that there has been bruises dotting her skin when that image has been taken.

The image didn't show that though. It only showed the lie everyone believed. The Fraisers were a loving, happy family to everyone else.

Everyone who didn't know the truth.

Melody's hands began to shake and her stomach twisted and she felt whatever Bucky had cooked for her yesterday threatening to reappear.

"Good," she jumped at the voice. "You're awake."

Melody lifted her head and saw James approaching from the shadows, a tired look in his face as well as several band aids.

More memories came flooding back, more recent memories.

_Broken glass scattered all around the floor, Melody's body shaking with pain and rage and James. His arms, one flesh and one metal wrapping around her, begging her to stop what she was doing._

_He saw everything,_ Melody thought with horror _. He saw me._

"Melody," James said, sitting down on the chair and fixing her with an intense that held her firmly in place though she wanted nothing more than to run. "We need to talk."

"I know," she said, her breath hitching in her chest.

"How long has this been going on?" asked James, flexing his metal and which reflected the minimal light in the room. "How long have you been doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what?"

James shook his head, brown hair obscuring his face for a moment before he brushed it away. "I saw the scar Melody, you can't lie to me."

"You saw them?" Melody squeaked and she watched as James's faced turned white.

"'Them'?" He repeated, voice tense. "So there are more?"

_Shit_. Melody sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. There was no point in trying to deny it. "Yes."

Bucky's blue eyes widened and he looked away from her, his posture tense and weary all at the same time. "So Sharon was right."

"What do you mean?" Sharon knew nothing about the scars. No one did. No one save herself and Moria and neither of them had ever said a word, Melody knew that.

"She's been worried about you for a long time." James explained, folding his hands and slumping forwards. "She's always been worried that you had...self-destructive tendencies. And now I know she was right. So, tell me, how long have you been doing that to yourself? How long have you been cutting?"

"What? I've never done that!" Melody nearly screamed. "I would never-!" How could she do something like that to herself? She'd had enough blades to her skin to last a lifetime. Melody would never put herself through that pain again.

"Don't lie, I saw the scar and you just said-."

Melody cut him off, the words building up in her throat. "I didn't do this! I didn't do any of it!"

James frowned at her. "Melody you don't have to be ashamed. You're not-."

"James I didn't do it," she said again, voice hard. "Just like you didn't want to kill all those people I didn't want to get hurt. Someone else was holding that knife."

Pain flashed in his eyes and Melody saw the veins in his right arm bulge as he tightened up.

"I'm sorry," she said instantly, rising from her seat and approaching him. "I shouldn't have said...I didn't mean to hurt you." She reached out, placing on a hand on his cheek. The stubble was rough underneath her palm and his skin was cold, as per usual.

"I'm not hurt," James said after a long moment and his metal hand overlapped her own. "I'm angry."

"I wasn't trying to make you mad either," Melody insisted. "I just had no idea how I could explain what happened."

"What happened Melody?" He asked, voice rough as his fingers curled around her hand and removed it from its current position. He didn't let go, however and kept a lose hold. "If you didn't give yourself that scar who did?"

_I can't tell you._ She wanted to say, but Melody knew that excuse wouldn't work with James. After what had happened last night he couldn't just let it go and accept what she said at face value.

She couldn't threaten to kick him out either to keep him from asking questions either, as she had when he'd opened the closet. That time had passed.

Melody couldn't threaten that anymore because she'd never follow through with it. She would never abandon him. She couldn't.

"James," Melody said, licking her dry lips. "What I'm telling you can never leave this room. This stays between us, do you understand me?"

James's hand tightened on hers. "Melody if someone's hurting you I can't-."

"James how many secrets do I keep for you?" She demanded.

"Too many to list," he answered instantly.

"I know," Melody said. And she gladly kept those secrets, it was her privilege to do it, but now she needed to remind him of the burden that they sometimes were. "So with that in mind, I am _begging_ you to keep _one_ of mine." If anyone ever knew the truth, every single thing she had, every part of the life she'd built for herself would fall apart and be lost forever. Melody couldn't allow that. She'd worked too hard for it.

James grit his teeth was quiet for several moments as he shut his eyes. He didn't need to speak for Melody to know he was fighting an internal battle. Then, finally James sighed deeply and gazed into her eyes. "Your secret is safe with me."

Melody smiled, a lump forming in her throat. "James, I know this house has been a safe place for you. It's been a safe place for Sharon and everyone else I've brought through the door. For everyone, excluding me. This house is my prison. And I escaped from it fourteen years ago."

The gunshot blasted in Melody's memory again as tears blurred her vision. When she spoke again, her voice was brittle. "That photograph Sharon gave me was a lie. We looked like a happy family but the truth was we were anything but. To the world, John Frasier was a brilliant surgeon and a devoted husband and father. And while he was a brilliant surgeon, behind closed doors, he was not the man everyone thought he was."

Melody blinked, feeling hot tears burn tracks down her face. How she had any left was a wonder to her, she'd already shed so many as it was.

"Melody," she felt James's hand tighten around hers, a comforting gesture and one she'd never experienced in her parents house. "It's alright."

"He hit us," Melody whispered, hand twitching as she remembered the pain of the knife slicing down her arm.

"What?" James asked and Melody spoke again, this time louder.

"He hit us. He hit his wife when they were married and like an idiot Moria thought a child would 'fix' him. She was wrong. The problems got worse after I was born."

She took a deep, shaking breath, nearly choking as the memories flooded her mind.

_"Stay here!" Mom nearly shrieked, pushing Melody into the closet. "Stay here and don't listen!"_

_"No! Mom please-!" Her mom ignored her and shut the door, leaving Melody alone in the dark._

_Shaking, she sat on the floor and cried as she heard her parents shouting outside._

_"You are my sunshine/my only sunshine you make me happy/when skies are grey." Melody sang to herself, covering her ears as she tired to listen to her mom. SheÂ  wouldn't listen, she'd be a good girl and not listen._

"Melody," the sound of her name blocked out the noise of her five year old self. "It's okay," she felt James's human hand touch her face, long and calloused fingers wiping away the tears.

"They fought, they fought often," Melody gasped. "Moria, her way to keep it from me was to hide me in the closet. The one in the entry way."

James's eyes glinted. "Is that why you yelled at me that day? When I left it open?"

Melody nodded solemnly. "I hated it in there. This might sound stupid to you but as a kid I was terrified of the dark and it was always so dark there. And no matter how hard I tried I always, always heard the fighting. I'd hear Moria scream when he hit her. I tried not to, just like she'd tell me to, but it never worked-no matter how loud I'd sing or hum they'd come through loud and clear."

"You what?"

"I'd sing to myself when she locked me in the closet." Melody explained softly. "I tried to drown them out and it made the dark less frightening."

Melody shrugged, thinking how foolish her fear of the dark had been. If she'd know then, the real horrors that she'd be part of only a few years later she'd have gladly taken the dark closet again and again without complaint. 

"Is that why you sing when you have nightmares?" asked James. 

Melody nodded. "Yes." She sighed and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "But that didn't last long, John eventually got tired of his wife 'coddling' me. He decided I was too 'ungrateful' and needed to learn a lesson in 'respect' and 'sacrifice'." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. John Frasier knew nothing but gratefulness, respect or sacrifice. All he knew was control, domination and fear.

"Please tell me this doesn't go where I think it does." James whispered and Melody felt more tears slide down her face.

"I could," she said. "But then I'd be lying. When I was about seven years old he started hitting me too. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to move the next day, at least not without limping. Moria told me to say I was sore from gymnastics. She taught me how to cover up the bruises with makeup. And if he used a belt, she'd take me to the bathroom off the study and clean out the cuts. That's why I keep the door shut. The sight of the bathtub makes me feel sick still."

James squeezed her hand. "That's terrible."

"It wasn't the most ideal childhood," Melody said with a pathetic attempt at a smile. "And it got worse. When I got older he decided that I needed to atone for my behavior by making a worthwhile contribution to the world. He decide it was going to be by helping him perfect this suture he was trying to develop. Later they called it the Frasier stitch."

"Sharon mentioned that," James interjected. "She told me the first time he did it was during a surgery. That is saved a patient."

"It was the first time he did it in public," Melody said. "But he'd done it plenty of times before," she rubbed at her arm again, feeling an echo of burning pain run from her elbow to her collar. "He tried it on me."

She watched as James's already pale face turned a shade whiter. "So that scar on your arm...your father did that to you?"

Melody nodded. 

"And your mother, she never said anything? She never tried to send you away? Like she did when you were little?"

"Locking a child in a closet isn't protecting them," Melody snapped, yanking her hand out of James's and turning away from him. "That's a band-aid over a bullet hole. If that's the _best_ a parent can do in that situation they _do not deserve_ to be a parent."

"I'm not defending her," James said instantly, rising to his feet, his chair scraping along the floor. "I'm just trying to understand-to be clear, she never tried to stop him when things escalated? When he started coming after you as well as her?"

Melody felt James rest a comforting hand on her shoulder and shrugged him off. "She never protected me. She never hit me either, but she let him do what he wanted. She just drank plenty of wine to deal with it all."

"Sharon said that she didn't start drinking until after-."

"Oh she drank before then," Melody interrupted him. She knew that was his process of thought, asking questions on subjects he wasn't familiar with, but she decided to speed it up. She was done hearing all the lies come out of his mouth. She could take hearing them from her coworkers, she could take hearing them from her interns, and she could even take hearing them from Sharon, but not James. Melody couldn't handle hearing them from James. 

That, somehow was just too much. 

"She just stopped being able to function after her husband died. Didn't take the death of her 'love' that well. That's one of the things I still can't believe. Despite everything he did to her, despite everything he did to me, she still loved him. She still _loves_ him."

Melody could only imagine how much more damaged Moria's liver would have been if she knew the real truth about how her husband died. 

_Melody's stomach ached with every step she took. The moonlight bathed the hallway, casting creepy shadows over the wall. She reached out with one gloved-hand and opened the door to her parents room, inside she heard the snores of her dad._

_She crept into the room, careful to avoid the one floorboard that creaked. If that happened he would wake up and he'd be angry. If John woke up he'd finish what he started two weeks prior when he drove that knife into her stomach.  
_

"Love makes people do crazy things," James said softly. "Including caring about people who don't deserve it." She felt his fingers curl around her wrist and draw her closer with one gentle motion.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her and continued. "Believe me, I know that pretty well. When I...saw Steve the last time, he wouldn't fight me. I was trying to kill him, but he wouldn't defend himself. Completely irrational behavior, but he couldn't fight me, I used to be his best friend and that's...that's how I woke up. He reminded me of that."

Melody sighed and shook her head. "That's not the same thing. You never had a choice and Steve knew that. Someone else was making those choices, your ability to reason and decide was completely removed from your actions. John never had that excuse. Everything he did to us he chose to do of his own free will. You deserve to be cared for James." Melody reached up and touched his face and felt his tense up at the action.

She drew her hand back and sighed as she stared at the smooth skin. These hands were skilled and precise. Whatever Melody needed them to do, no matter how trying the situation they never failed her. They always performed every action with accuracy and ease.

"Did I ever tell you how I do it?" Melody asked aloud, still staring at her hand as she flexed it into a fist. "How I stay so calm in the OR? Or when Loki's army invaded New York and I had next to nothing to work with to help my patients?"

"No, you said you'd tell me but never did."

"I forgot I suppose," Melody apologized. "But I'll fix that now. See, what I do, when I'm operating on my patients, despite the excellent lighting in the OR, I never look at them. I turn off. I don't feel anything when I look at them. They could die and I wouldn't care. I _don't_ care. From the moment I step into an OR, to right as I leave, I don't feel anything. No emotion."Â  She admitted, feeling James 's arms tighten around her. Whether in fear or in an attempt to console her Melody didn't know. Her own life didn't offer any place to reference the action. "I just do what I'm there for, I fix the problem, I even save their lives, but I can't panic if it goes wrong because there's no feeling that either. They don't teach that in med school, but it works. If I can't feel any emotion, I can't panic. I can keep my head clear and be logical."

"That's...interesting," James said finally. "It's weird, but it works. If it helps you save people, then why not use it?"

Melody felt another wave of tears burn her eyes. "The first time I did that James, the first time I only looked at a person and turned off my emotions, I wasn't saving a life. I was taking one."

"What?" his voice was low, almost confused, like he was sure he'd misheard what Melody had said.

She bit her lip, tasting the salt of her tears. For one moment, Melody shut her eyes, relaxing into James for one last second. She had a feeling he'd probably never get this close again once he knew the truth. 

"James?" 

"Yes?"

"You meant what you said, didn't you? You won't tell anyone what I'm telling you?"

"I promised," he said instantly. "I won't go back on it. You can trust me."

Melody watched as her hands trembled and then continued in a low voice. "John Frasier did not comitt suicide. I killed him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry for the delay in posting, I was at work all day yesterday and ran around a great deal afterwards so I didn't have time to get this posted! So, we finally know the truth-question, did anyone see that coming? Shoutout to KNINTN, another archive user who was the first person to leave a comment on this fic! Thanks for reading! :)


	25. Twenty-Five

"John Frasier did not comitt suicide. I killed him." The words were soft, barely above a whisper, but Bucky heard them all the same and the impact was like an explosion.

It wasn't possible. Melody, a woman devoted to saving lives-had blood on her hands. Bucky drew away, lifting his head to look at her, a silent question in his eyes. He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe. Everything she was telling him, it couldn't be true.

Melody didn't look away from his gaze. "I killed him," she said again, her voice a bit stronger as more tears streamed down her red face. "I stole his gun out of the safe and shot him with it. I wore gloves so my finger prints wouldn't show up when the police came, I put the barrel underneath his chin so it would look like he did it. I threw the gloves into the fire place while his body thrashed around and started screaming for Moria."

Her words became agitated and quick, like water bursting from a dam. "The police never even questioned that it was a suicide. Or at least I think they didn't, they never tried to charge me with anything at least."

She took a shuttering breath, wiping at her eyes again which were red and swollen.

Bucky wanted to reject her words, reject the idea that Melody was capable of murder, but he couldn't. Despite it going against everything she was, it still made sense. The way she'd reacted when he'd left the front closet open. The nightmare that had ended with her stabbing him. What she'd said, _"I was trying to save my life...Not all wounds bleed...People are better at remembering things that hurt us."_ It all fit. Then, unbidden and without conscious thought a hundred horrifying images came to life in his mind that showed him Melody's past.

_Melody as a young child with gaps between her teeth, thrown to the floor while her father stood over her with a belt and an angry scowl on his face. A knife running down her arm as a larger hand held her in place while she screamed, then pitch black sutures weaving in and out of her skin as he repaired the same damage he'd created...Melody again, a child standing at the side of a large bed, tears running down her face as she pressed a gun underneath the chin of the sleeping man. The man who should have been her protector. The man who instead was her jailer and her monster._

"Melody," he whispered, rubbing his thumb across her cheek to wipe away her tears. "It's alright." The blood on her hands didn't matter. Who was he to judge that when he'd killed hundreds? Hundreds of strangers who'd done nothing wrong. But Melody? The one life she'd taken was one she'd taken out of need. A life who would have ended hers if given the chance. Bucky was sure of it.

Whatever she'd done, it had been to stay alive. Bucky knew that. The murder wasn't her. The surgeon who saved lives was. The woman who gave up sleep to talk the Winter Solider down from his nightmares was her. Nothing she had done in her past was going to change Bucky's mind on that.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, her voice weak as she laughed a watery laugh. "I just told you I murdered someone and you're telling me that things are 'alright'? Are you crazy?"

"You didn't have a choice," he said instantly. "You were backed into a corner. It was your life or his." Though the situation was horrible and conflicted with his own image of who Melody was and her past-it didn't change one vital thing-Melody was not a killer. She didn't take lives for the hell of it. She was devoted to protecting life. To preserving it, whatever she'd done, it hadn't been for kicks, it had been to survive.

Melody shoved him away, startling him and Bucky stumbled back into the end table. "No James," she said, veins popping in her throat and eyes narrowing into silts. "I was _not_ backed into a corner. Not right then. He was asleep. He was not attacking me. I was not being hit or stabbed right then. He was asleep, unarmed and had no way to defend himself. My life was _not_ in danger in that moment. I had a _choice_ and I _chose_ to kill." She fell back against the couch, burying her face in her hands. "No one told me to do it, no one pressured me, no one brainwashed me into doing _anything_. Everything I did was _my own choice_."

Suddenly, something else clicked into place. Melody's insistence that she wasn't afraid of him, that she only feared people who'd had a choice and chosen something evil. She'd been talking about herself.Â  "Easy," Bucky said, taking one small step closer and holding out his hands in what he hoped she would read as a calming gesture. "I'm not going to judge you. I don't have the right. I've killed more people than you ever will."

Melody curled her knees to her chest and glanced up at him for a moment. "You never had a choice James. I did-that's the difference here."

"Melody-."

"Don't," she said flatly. "I know you mean well, but there is no way to make this better. Whatever John was, he was a human being and I murdered him. I chose to take his life. I turned off any empathy and emotions I had and I murdered him and I lied about it. Not amount of reasoning will ever change that."

"Do you regret it then?" Bucky asked softly. "You feel guilty about it?" He was well acquainted with that feeling.Â  All the people he'd killed, whether he'd chosen it or not, he'd still done it and he had to live with it.

"That's what scares me the most," Melody said softly, hiding her face again. "Because all I feel guilty is about is how callous I was when I killed him. I don't feel any guilt over his death. I don't regret it. I know I should, but I can't, not even a little."

Bucky reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You might have had a choice then, but you really didn't have any good ones open to you. If you hadn't done what you did, he might have killed you."

That was why Bucky didn't care what she did. From everything she'd said, to the brutal-looking scar on her arm-they all told Bucky one thing: John Fraiser would have killed her one day.

The fact that she'd prevented that outcome, however grisly the means didn't matter. What mattered was that she was alive and safe. That outcome was more to Bucky than her actions to get there.

"He almost did," Melody said, instantly confirming his instincts. "One night he was angry, wanted to practice his suture again, but this time he wanted to it on a stab wound." One of her harms wound around her stomach, and Bucky's blood went cold when he realized that was where she'd been stabbed. Stab wounds to the abdomen were tricky. They were either extremely deadly as they hit the lungs or other vital organs or they just hit muscle and left painful but not life threatening wounds.

"I couldn't breathe," Melody said, her shoulders hunching up, as though she could still feel the pain. "And I remember Moria shouting to bring me to the hospital. Not that it happened, everyone wouldÂ  have known what he was then. He treated me at home, told everyone I had the flu andÂ  though I did recover and heal just fine all I could think afterwards was that he was going to kill me one day. I kept thinking that there was nothing I could do, no rule-book I could follow that would keep him from killing me one day. I'd gotten lucky that time, but it wouldn't hold out forever.Â  I kept thinking that. I kept thinking that no one would protect me, and that was the day I started planning to..."

Her voice trailed off, but Bucky didn't need her to say it aloud. He already knew what was at the end of that sentence.

"You did what you had to do," Bucky said firmly. "You didn't have another way out."

"There were teachers at my school I could have told," said Melody as she ticked them off on her fingertips. "And doctor's at the hospital when John broke my leg, I could have told them and I could have called the police one day when John wasn't home. I had options, I just didn't see how they'd work."

"You were too close to the situation," Bucky reasoned, squeezing her shoulder. "When it's so...personal a problem, you can't see an obvious solution to it. You're just too close." He knew that pretty well. After regaining his memories, the obvious solution would have been to talk with Steve, the one person Bucky was completely sure would help him. But he hadn't been able to do it. He had no idea how to face Steve Rogers after everything he'd done and everything he'd become.

Melody didn't reply and Bucky gathered up whatever courage he had and slid closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"You keep my secrets," he whispered. "So yours will always be safe with me." He took a deep breath, feeling his heart pick up as he spoke. "And knowing this, it doesn't change how I feel about you-not in a negative way at least." He added the last part hastily.

The feeling was still there, lurking in his heart and he couldn't tell her about it. That unnamed feeling, he knew had great power, the ability to hurt or to heal and he was sure, in this instance it would just leave hurt.

"In fact," he continued. "If anything in just amazed by how strong you are."

She'd endured more horror than he'd believed and survived it. She built a life for herself out of the wreckage of her past and became something of a hero in her own right.

"Have I ever told you that you're crazy?" she asked, laughing weakly and smiling.

"No."

"Well I'm saying it now. You're crazy."

"Ever hear the phrase 'the pot's calling the kettle black'?" Bucky asked. "Or did that die out in the last seventy-years?" She thought he was crazy for not being horrified at the fact that she had taken action to save her own life, but apparently _she_ was sane despite housing an internationally wanted criminal with the second highest body count in Hydra history.

"It is," Melody said, laughing without humor. "It's just not tossed around by young people like me."

"I'll remember that," Bucky said.

"Thanks," Melody yawned and moved closer, her head resting on his chest. The contact made sent a shiver through Bucky. Melody however was too exhausted to notice and said nothing.

"I meant what I said you know," Bucky told her as she nodded off. "Your secret is safe with me."

Melody yawned again and her words were slurred when she spoke. "Thank you James, for everything."

"Anytime," he muttered, but she didn't hear him. Melody had already fallen asleep. Bucky sighed and moved carefully so he could lift her up. He wasn't sure if she was on call tomorrow but he was sure that'd she have a very sore neck if she tried to sleep on the couch all night.

Moving quietly and swiftly, Bucky brought her upstairs and laid her in her bed, careful not to make too much noise and wake her up. As he pulled the duvet over her, Bucky couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked.

Even with her blotchy cheeks, puffy eyes and tiny cuts on her face, Melody looked at ease, finally at rest. She wasn't fighting a battle anymore. There was no fight to save a life, to save Bucky from his ghosts or to keep her own at bay. She didn't have to fight anymore, at least not right then.

The sight made Bucky's chest tighten as he realized just how long Melody Frasier had been fighting battles.

As Bucky laid down, he reached out to her again, a habit he couldn't shake and he shut his eyes. Imprinted in his mind was the scar on her arm.

 _I will never let that happen to you,_ Bucky thought, feeling his injured arm throb hotly. _No matter what, no one will ever lay a hand in you again. I promise._


	26. Twenty-Siix

"You don't have to do this you know," Melody told Bucky as he applied yet another band-aid to her hands. "I can take care of it, it's nothing."

"I'm trying to concentrate here," Bucky informed her as he turned over her hand, checking for any cuts he'd missed in his first inspection. Melody's rampage the night before had left her hands scratched and bleeding.Â  Nothing serious in the least, which Bucky was more than thankful for, but it still wasn't a good practice to leave them open to the air so long.

He would have taken care of the cleaning and bandaging sooner, but at the time had been too afraid of her waking up and flying back into that state of rage and pain. 

Now that Bucky knew she wouldn't, now that he knew the real reason behind her actions the fear had left him. Bucky didn't have to worry about Melody cracking underneath the pressure of being the best as he'd once feared. He didn't worry those long sleeves she wore hid the marks of the pain in her own mind.

Now he knew the truth.

Bucky examined her hands one final time, satisfied that he hadn't missed anything and then looked up at Melody who was smiling, amusement shining in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, snapping the lid shut on the first aid kit.

"Nothing," she answered, too fast to be believable. 

"You're a bad liar," Bucky told her, which was a lie in and of itself. Melody was a great liar. She'd been fooling everyone her entire life.

Everyone thought she was the little orphan Annie, mourning a tragic loss of a father and spending her life trying to honor his memory. And it was the farthest thing from the truth.

Melody had fooled all of them. And Bucky was certain that if the other night hadn't happened, if every horrible memory hadn't built up inside her and been let loose, he would have remained among those who believed her lie.

"Maybe I'm not the best," Melody said. "But I assure you nothing is funny. You just remind me of myself when I was an intern. So serious about something so small."

She tapped one of the band-aids on the back of her left hand to further her point and Bucky shrugged.

"I'm better at creating injuries than I am at fixing them. It's what I was made for." The US army and his own athleticism had given Hydra the raw materials to work with, they had only needed to shape them into what they wanted.

"I disagree," Melody said. "You weren't made for that. And _inexperienced_ as you are at administering medical attention," she glanced at her hands, "you did pretty well. But I have to say that _I_ would have done better."

Bucky laughed at her cocky attitude. "And, how exactly can you improve on applying band-aids Doctor Frasier?"

"You can perform the procedure quickly," she answered with a wink. "Which I would have done."

"A lot of practice?" The words were out before Bucky remembered how true that actually might have been. He felt like an idiot, though he knew the truth about Melody's family now and he believed her story, but it was still new information to him and his old habits from his previous beliefs still remained.

"Sorry," he added quickly, feeling his face burn. "I shouldn't have-."

"No apology needed," Melody interrupted. "AndÂ  to answer that sarcastic question, no, actually, I have little to no practice putting on band-aids."

Her left hand traveled up her opposite arm, rubbing at the bicep. Bucky realized most of the wounds she'd acquired growing up had been too large and too deep to be cared for by something as simple as a band-aid.

 _"You saw them?"_ her horrified voice from earlier echoed back in his mind. "Them" was a plural term. "Them" meant more than one. Her father had started beating her when she was seven years old and she'd killed him when she was nearly thirteen. Thirteen years she'd lived in fear of him. For six of them she' d been the outlet of his rage.

Bucky shuddered to think just how many scars John had left her with during that time. 

His troubled thoughts must have shown on his face, because Melody commented on it. "What's wrong?"

Bucky tapped his fingers against the marble counter top. "You won't like the answer." 

"Try me."

Bucky sighed. "How many...how many scars do you have? You said earlier, that there were more than just the one on your arm."

Melody's eyes widened and she looked away and down at the counter. "You're right," she whispered. "I don't like that answer."

"You don't have to tell me," Bucky said instantly. "It's a personal question." He'd never told her much about Hydra. She'd never pushed him for details on his past. The very least Bucky could do was give her the same courtesy. 

"It's not that personal," Melody replied with a shake of her head. Her blonde hair fell forward at the motion, obscuring her eyes and Bucky fought back the impulse to reach out and brush the strands away.

"Some would disagree," Bucky said, attempting to smother that warmth that was far too close to his heart for comfort. "Speaking from experience, it's hard to...talk about things like that."

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry?" How could Melody not know what it was like to have a painful past? She seemed to understand that better than anyone Bucky knew.

"I don't know how many scars I have," she clarified. "I've never counted."

Bucky's throat tightened. Had Melody failed to count them because there were too many to even make the attempt? Or because she couldn't bear to look at them? Both? He didn't know, but he wanted the answer. He wanted Melody to stop hiding from him. He wanted her to know she didn't have to carry the burdens of her past by herself anymore.

Bucky just had no idea how to try and tell her that. Not without inviting a question he couldn't answer: why. 

He _knew_ why and he hadn't even been able to name the reason himself. Not yet. Bucky wasn't prepared to deal with how it would feel afterwards.

"That's...terrible," he said finally, unsure of what else he could offer. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't."Â  Melody's voice was hard and Bucky cringed at the tone.

"I do not want your pity," she said flatly, brushing the fringe of hair from her face. As Bucky had seen a few times now, they were blazing with emotion. "I do not want you to treat me any differently. I am _not_ broken. He did _not_ break me." Her voice rose in volume, almost shouting and Bucky spoke up, eager to dissolve the situation.

"You're not a victim," Bucky said. "I know that. You're a survivor." 

Melody blinked slowly and then scowled. "Don't say that to appease me James." Her tone was still sharp, like the edge of a razor and it made Bucky want to answer with a biting response of his own, but he forced it back. _People lash out when they're wounded._ Â  He remembered Melody telling him that once, the first time he finally accepted her help, saying how she'd already forgiven him for how he'd treated her. 

This was the same situation, only difference was now, Melody was the one who was wounded and lashing out. Now it was Bucky's turn to be understanding. "I'm not just saying that, " he promised finally, feeling some of his initial defensiveness ebb away. "It's like what I told you last night, your past, it doesn't make me think any less of you. It just showed me that you're even stronger than I thought."

"You thought I was strong?"

Bucky nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah. You remind me of Steve."

Melody laughed instantly and shook her head. "I'm no super solider."

"No," Bucky agreed, "you're not. But before he was Captain America Steve was just a scrawny kid from Brooklyn."

"Are you saying I'm scrawny?"

"No!" Bucky said, looking down at the counter to hide his embarrassed expression. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that what serum they gave him made him physically strong, but before that happened, before he could even throw a decent punch he had a stubborn streak. Steve could never give up, not when something mattered to him. And that's what you do. You can't give up."

Bucky felt his mouth get a little dry and he felt both hot and freezing cold with fear and excitement as he reached across the counter with his right hand to grasp Melody's. "You didn't give up on me either, not even when I was an ass to you."

"I'm not easy to be around all the time either," Melody said, a shy smile coming to her face. "And I've had moments were I wasn't very fair to you either. Like when you opened the closet-I shouldn't have threatened to kick you out. That was wrong and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Bucky disagreed. "You just had a bad day. Everyone does."

"A 'bad day'?" Melody repeated. "I nearly killed you for opening an empty closet, lied about why, threatened to kick you out and then curled into a shaking ball for an hour."

"I thought you went to sleep," Bucky said. "That's what you told me you were doing." 

"I lied."

"So you were just...?"

"Upstairs and trying not to panic?" She finished, a half-smile flickering on her face. There was no humor in it, just shame. "Yes, that is exactly what I was doing."

"Does that happen to you often?" Bucky asked, staring at their entwined fingers. One made of flesh and blood and one made of metal. Entirely different, and yet, Bucky thought they fit together well. 

"There's this thing about traumatic memories people never tell you about." Melody said, her hand tightening around Bucky's. The sensors in his hand picked up the change, just a little, registering the pressure. "They never actually get better."

"Great," Bucky muttered. "I have that to look forward to." 

"They don't get better," Melody said again, "you only get better at handling them when they appear. Trust me."

"I do trust you, I just have a hard time seeing that right now." The nightmares had gotten better, yes, but they still plagued him most nights and he still woke up with the sounds of dead people screaming in his head. The guilt hadn't gotten any better either. How time could fix something like that Bucky had no idea. 

"I would have said the same thing about myself six years ago." 

Bucky glanced up at Melody who was smiling again, but this time she didn't look ashamed, just sad. "What were things like six years ago?"

Melody held up their entwined hands. "I couldn't do _this_ six years ago." 

"Hold a prosthetic hand?"

She smiled wryly. "Touch people."

"What?"

"I couldn't touch people," Melody said and this time Bucky not only saw the sadness in her smile, he saw it reflected in the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "Every time anyone tried to touch me, even just a hug I'd flinch or jump away. I said I was afraid of germs. I lied."

Bucky had a feeling it was only a half-lie. She had been afraid of something, but it hadn't been germs."What changed?"

"I got better at managing my mind," Melody said. "And I undid a lifetime of training. It just took time to work. And now," she placed her other hand over Bucky's. "I can touch people without being afraid."

Bucky stared at their interlocked hands. "That's good."

"I still have a whole host of other issues to sort out," Melody said with a shrug. "But that first time I realized that one was in the past. I felt like I could fly."

"I bet," Bucky agreed. "What did you do, the day when you realized you'd finally overcome that?"

"Sharon was actually leaving, it was her goodbye party and before she left I gave her a hug." Melody smiled at the memory. "And I've never heard that woman scream so loudly in all the time that I've known her." 

Bucky laughed. "She screamed?"

"To be fair I _did_ scare the daylights out of her. She asked if I had an incurable disease and only six months to live. She was serious too."

"You're kidding."

"I don't have a sense of humor remember?" Melody teased. "And that prevents me from kidding. She was completely serious. And I would haveÂ  probably wondered the same thing if our places were reversed."

"Melody?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this isn't the best offer," Bucky said slowly, heart beating erratically in his chest. "But if you decide you want someone to help you through those difficult days, you can talk to me and I'll try and help you. You can even wake me up if you need to. Seems only fair."

 _Please don't ask me why,_ Bucky added in his mind, watching Melody subtly, or at least he hoped it was. He'd already proven that he wasn't always as coy as he thought he was when it came to her.

Slowly, a smile stretched across her face. As always, when they were smiles that were actually genuine, they lit up her face, making her eyes shine and muting the effects of weariness on her appearance. 

"Thank you James." She pulled one of her hands away and fiddled with a lock of hair. "So, did you still want to watch _Star Wars_? I know it's a weird time for a movie marathon," she looked out the window at the rising sun. "But why not? We do have three to get through."

Bucky smiled and regained the ability to breathe. "Let's do it."

Melody smiled back. "Great! You want to make popcorn?"

"Popcorn for breakfast?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little unhealthy Doctor?"

Melody laughed at his joke and Bucky felt that warmth stir again. "At least I'm eating breakfast," she reminded him. "I didn't forget today."

"That's true," Bucky agreed, sliding off his chair and walking around the island to her side. "Fine, popcorn for breakfast-but don't tell Sharon. She won't forgive me for allowing it-she keeps telling me to take care of you."

Melody rolled her eyes and stood up as well, leaning against Bucky and a wave of electricity traveled up his arm to the rest of his body. "Don't worry about Sharon, her bark is worse than her bite."

"The woman is a secret agent."

"I said it was worse, but that doesn't mean her bite still isn't dangerous."

Bucky laughed. _That sounds like someone else I know._ He thought, but he didn't say the words aloud. He meant the words as praise, but Melody's ordeal the night before left him thinking she wouldn't be able to see that. Not right then anyways and he wasn't going to risk hurting her by being so careless. 

Melody deserved better than that from him. She deserved better than what she had and Bucky wanted to tell her that. He wanted to be the one to show her just how extraordinary she truly was, wanted her to know she would always be Melody to him, no matter what ghosts she battled every day and he wanted to tell her how she made him feel. 

Bucky wanted to tell Melody he loved her.

The thought came, unbidden and unexpected, like an ambush and it nearly made Bucky trip and fall as he made his way towards the kitchen, Melody not far behind.

"Alright?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, unsure if it was the truth or a lie. "Just tripped." 

The tripping was a fib, but he wasn't sure if he was fine or not. He didn't feel any pain. The love he felt hadn't ripped open a wound in his chest, it still hummed through him in a pleasant sort of way, but he had no idea of how long that was going to last.

Or how long he'd be able to keep it from Melody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Melody's secrets are all out in the open! Too bad Bucky has a few left! :P Shoutout to missmaddox, Alej21 and fernwehkate, as well as other guests (who's name I'd don't know) for all leaving kudos on the fic! Thanks a lot you guys :)


	27. Twenty-Seven

They didn't make it very far into the films before both Bucky and Melody started falling asleep. 

"Maybe we should nap first?" Bucky suggested, swallowing another yawn as Melody jerked herself awake once again. "I'm falling asleep-I won't even remember what they're about if I keep trying to do this."

"Good idea," Melody muttered, reaching blindly for the remote. If Bucky hadn't known better he might have actually thought she was drunk. Her limbs had about the same level of coordination right then. Finally, she managed to hit the right button and the TV shut off and the room was silent again.

"Should we go upstairs or...?" Even as Bucky spoke Melody laid back down, her head resting on his chest as she grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch. "Melody?" he questioned, feeling a little light-headed.

"Too tired to stand," she mumbled, eyes already starting to drift shut.

"I'm not a pillow," Bucky informed her, though he honestly didn't mind her using him for that purpose. 

Melody mumbled something else, it wasn't entirely clear but Bucky guessed it was probably something along the lines of "close enough". That was generally her attitude towards sleeping on objects that were not intended for that purpose. 

"Here," Bucky said, sliding one arm around her back and other underneath her legs. "I'll carry you. You'll get a stiff neck if you sleep like that."

Melody muttered something else again, but she didn't fight him when he picked her up and her head lolled over, resting against his chest and suddenly Bucky hoped she was in fact well on her way to sleep. He didn't want her hearing the frantic noise of his heart. It would bring out the doctor in her for sure and she'd instantly start searching for a cause to the abnormal rhythm. 

Bucky took a few careful steps forwards, waited on baited breath to see if Melody would yank herself out of sleep to make sure he was okay or stay resting.

She stayed asleep as he moved upstairs and laid her down on the bed and covered her up. She looked peaceful and the sight made Bucky smile. Melody was always on the moving, running to save lives, to keep secrets or protect someone be they a super solider or a civilian on the street. It was good to see her at rest for a moment, doing something to take care of herself and her health.

Bucky looked at her a second longer, noticing that her hair had fallen across her face again. He felt the urge to brush it away ripple through him again and this time he didn't fight against it.

He reached out with his human hand and brushed the hair away from her face. The strands were soft against his fingertips and the skin of her face was smooth and warm. Affection rushed through Bucky and he shivered as he laid down next to her and let his arm fall around her waist like he did every time they went to sleep.

He knew he didn't have to do that anymore, but the habit had become ingrained in him now. He was used to touching her when they fell asleep, the action brought him some comfort now. Bucky knew that each time he shut his eyes to sleep he left his mind open to attacks from his memories. He was used to it now, but it still frightened him each time he prepared to go to sleep. The small gesture, just knowing Melody was close by, even though he couldn't see her helped him stay calm in the face of the horrors he knew he was more than likely to face.

Melody was real. She was there in the real world. His memories weren't, realistic as they felt. Being able to feel the difference helped him make sense of which was which.

Melody must have known that because she never objected to what he was doing, at least not aloud. Bucky hoped she'd just continue to operate underneath the impression that it was just to grounding method. That there was no other reason behind it.

 _But there is,_ a little voice in the back of his mind whispered. _There is another reason.  
_

 _Shut up,_ Bucky thought back at the voice. _It doesn't matter.  
_

_It does to you.  
_

Bucky groaned against the persistent little voice and shut his eyes as he attempted to focus on his breathing. 

It didn't work, the nagging voice didn't go away and Bucky opened his eyes, staring at Melody again who was still resting peacefully.

 _You love her,_ the voice taunted again and Bucky grit his teeth against it. He hated that it was right, he hated that it was probably going to leave him with another wound that wouldn't bleed, but would burn and pain him just the same as any flesh wound. 

_You love her,_ the voice said again.

 _Yes, I know,_ he growled. _Now will you shut up?_

The unwelcome thought didn't reply right away but in a second, all thoughts shut off as Melody rolled over, still asleep and her head rested on Bucky's chest along with one of her hands. She snuggled closer, shifting for a few seconds before settling down and relaxing into him.

Bucky felt his entire body freeze up for a moment as he registered how close they were. Close enough that Bucky could see the freckles on her nose, her pale eyelashes and a pale white line crossing her collar bone. 

Bucky's eyes zeroed in on the change and then his mind registered more details. In her movement, Melody had moved her shirt aside in the shift and had exposed a small portion of her collar bone in the process.Â 

Marring the smooth skin was a scar, about the same width as his thumb and jagged, as though the attack had been sloppy. 

Bucky's body turned to ice as he realized it might have been exactly that. Attacks made in fits of rage were often sloppy. It made perfect sense him that John Frasier had lost his temper with his daughter and when he'd attacked her with a knife his hand had slipped and it had created a jagged tear instead of a smooth one.

 _I can't believe how stupid I was,_ Bucky thought as he stared at the jagged scar. _I thought you couldn't possibly understand pain and the whole time...You spent your life suffering at the hands of people who should have never hurt you._

Bucky yawned again and let his eyes close, this time focusing on the feeling of Melody's warm body pressing against his. This time the annoying little voice was quiet and Bucky felt himself drift off into sleep. 

***

He woke up to screams, but they weren't in his head. They were right next to him. 

"Melody?" Bucky rolled over, groggy but frightened as he saw Melody bolt upright beside him, her face whiter than the sheets they were laying on. "Melody what's wrong?"

She didn't respond, but continued to gasp for air, her hands digging into her scalp as she trembled. 

"Melody answer me," Bucky sat upright, reaching out to her before stopping short and feeling his arm throb where Melody had stabbed him. Trying to touch her was probably a bad idea. "Melody talk to me."

She didn't, but the trembling began to stop as her breathing reached a normal speed and Bucky saw a bitter smile cross her face. "I'm alright."

"Nightmare?" Bucky pressed, edging closer in case Melody needed to use him to ground herself.

She ran her hands through her hair again and sighed. "Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bucky was sure the answer was no, but he still wanted to offer.

Melody sighed and she began to tremble again. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," Bucky informed her instantly. "I'm not trying to pressure you."

"I know that," Melody said, her voice weak. "I just-I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Talk about this."

Bucky guessed from her tone that "this" was the truth about her past. "Oh."

"I've never talked about it." Melody said. "Fourteen years I've kept my mouth shut and so I really have no idea how to start disclosing."

"It's okay," Bucky told her, laying back down and staring at the ceiling as sunlight poured into the room. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I understand."

He didn't, not entirely. Bucky didn't stay quiet about his nightmares because he was accustomed to keeping secrets. He just wasn't ready to relive it all. He had no idea if he ever would be. 

Melody sighed and then Bucky felt the mattress shift and then Melody rolled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest, right over his heart. 

"Melody?" Bucky asked, letting his arm curl around her. 

"I couldn't breathe," she whispered, her hand curling into a fist. "I was being strangled."

"Did that ever really...?" Bucky trailed off, unable to say the word out loud as the scene came to life in his mind. The same one from his nightmares, but now he wasn't the one crushing her throat, but a faceless stranger who had the same green eyes as she did.

Melody shook against Bucky which was answer enough, but she spoke anyway. "A few times, Moria taught me how to cover up the bruises."

Bucky tightened his hold on Melody, who relaxed into him almost instantly and let out a shaking breath. "She always covered up the bruises at first, she had a lot of practice and she taught me well. I learned how to do it by myself eventually. It was one of the only two things she taught me to do."

"What was the second thing she taught you?" Bucky asked, rubbing circles into her back the way she did for him when he had nightmares. Melody's spine arched against his touch and Bucky heard her sigh which sent a thrill through his body like an electric shock.

 _Does she like it when I touch her?Â_ He wondered but Bucky disregarded the notion a second later. It was a massage, everyone liked those because they felt good. It had nothing to do with him.

"Don't ever trust anyone under any circumstances or for any reason." She replied, sighing as Bucky dug into a spot between her shoulders. "They're just going to let you down."

Bucky winced and let his hand drop to the mattress. "What?" 

"I'm trying to unlearn that one." Melody told him. "It's one of the many issues I'm working through."

"She told you that?" he asked, propping himself up so he could look at Melody. "She honestly told you that?" 

"No," she said, blinking slowly and jaw tensing. "She showed me that."

"Showed you?"

"Actions speak louder than words," Melody replied, her bright eyes flashing with what Bucky could only call anger.

"Melody," Bucky began but she sat upright and cut him off.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry." She tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed. "You want toast?"

"CanÂ  you make anything besides toast?" Bucky asked, not happy she changed the subject so abruptly. He got up as well, yanking down his shirt which had been pulled up at some point during his nap. 

Melody shrugged. "Does cereal count?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Come on," Bucky said titling his head towards the door. "It's time you learned how to make eggs like a normal person." He didn't want to drop the previous topic, but he knew better than to push her. Undoing fourteen years of habits couldn't be easy and she'd tried to do it with him. Bucky didn't know why, but he was grateful for it either way. He recognized it for what it was, a show of trust and Bucky certainly intended to prove that he was worthy of it.

Given what she'd said about her mother, she was attempting to unlearn that lesson again and she was trying to do that with him.Â  That was no small thing and it made Bucky's heart expand in his chest as he thought about it.

"James?" Melody asked, regarding him curiously. "Why are you staring at me?"

 _Shit. Not again._ "Because you're beautiful," Bucky told her, which was partly true. She was beautiful, but it wasn't the only reason he was staring at her. 

Melody's thin mouth flickered into a frown. "No I'm not, but thanks anyway."

"Melody-," Bucky tried to object, to explain but he had no idea how to do that without telling her how he felt. 

"Don't," she told him flatly. "You mean well, but don't waste your time. You're wrong and that's not going to change anytime soon. Come on," she said walking out the door. "Don't you have a vital life skill you need to teach me?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, still seeing that hard expression that had crossed her face as she told him that he was wrong. "I guess I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	28. Twenty-Eight

Melody's nightmares stayed with her for a week after her outburst. Soon, Bucky depended on his morning caffeine even more than usual. He thought Melody could see how weary he was, despite his attempts to hide it, between his own nightmares and hers he never slept anymore, but he tried not to show how much it was starting to wear on him.

Melody lost sleep for him consistently for the last seven months and never complained about it. He wasn't going to complain about doing the same for her for a few days.

"James?" 

The sound of his name was like cold water and Bucky's eyes snapped open. "What? Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"That would be because you're falling asleep where you stand." Melody informed him, grabbing his half-empty plate from him and putting it in the sink. "You look like me when I was an intern. And if my sarcasm wasn't clear, that is a very bad thing."

"I'm fine," Bucky said as he yawned which made the point he was trying to make completely moot. "What were you saying?" 

"I was saying to go and sit over by the sink, it's been five days, I can take your stitches out now."

"Oh great," Bucky got up from his stool and dragged his sluggish limbs forward to do as he was told. "That's great."

"Just told still," Melody told him as she got her supplies ready. "This won't hurt, I'll numb the skin so you don't feel it, but it will feel weird."

"Weird how?" he asked, breath catching as Melody stood closer and snapped on a pair of gloves. 

"Don't worry," Melody said, mistaking his actions for fear. "It's just pressure. It'll be over soon, I promise."

Bucky watched as Melody transitioned to Doctor Frasier. Her green eyes shut slowly, her hands out stretched and steady before her and then, one long, slow deep breath was exhaled. Her eyes snapped open and her hands moved with sure, practiced ease as she began to remove the pitch black stitches.

While she worked, Bucky stayed quiet. He knew better than to try and engage conversation. She wouldn't say anything past curt remarks. She was a doctor now, she was trying to fix a problem and the way she did that was to cut everything away. If it wasn't relevant to the injury, Doctor Frasier wouldn't hear it. The state wouldn't last forever and he knew it, once this was over, she'd be Melody again. She'd care again, but not the way he cared about her. There was no room in her heart for him, there never would be. This close, he could see the small ring of hazel in her eyes and just beneath them, a pale eyelash had fallen on her cheek. _I could brush it away,_ he thought, _all it would take is just a small move. If I just raised my hand, I'd be touching her face._ But the thought died before he considered it more, there was no point to do that, to touch her when it would always mean so much more to him than it would to her. 

"James?" Melody's voice shook Bucky out of his thoughts and he tried to sound normal when he spoke. _  
_

"On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your pain?" she asked as she snipped another suture. _  
_

"Zero."

"You don't need to put on a brave face for me James," Melody said, still staring at the sutures. "It's okay."

"I'm not in pain Melody."

"Are you cold?"

"No." Bucky frowned, "Why are you asking? Melody I'm completely fine." _Physically,_ he added in his mind. Physically Bucky was completely fine. Emotionally he wasn't so sure.

"You're shaking James and quiet badly might I add."

"What?" he glanced down and saw she was right. His arm was trembling and now that he was aware of it, he felt the tremors travel up and down his entire body.

Melody clipped the last suture and then inspected the puckered-looking scar, steadying Bucky's shaking arm with her hands. They were warm and soft. "It looks good," she said after a moment. "The scar will mature over time and I'll monitor it to make sure it develops normally, not that I think it won't, but just in case and all that jazz." She smiled, her icy concentration and tunnel vision melting away and she was Melody again. She cared but still not the way Bucky wanted. 

The distress must have shown on his face because Melody stopped her attempts to clean up the sutures and turned to look at him, her brows drawn together as she began to look for the issue.

"James? What's wrong? Are you feeling alright? You look pale," she stood up on her toes, pressing her palm against his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"I'm not sick," he said, his voice breaking as he felt the heat of Melody's skin wash across his face.

"You're shaking still," Melody said more to herself than to him, eyes darting around as she rolled over his supposed symptoms and possible causes in her head. "Oh God." Her face turned white as a sheet and she stumbled back, shaking herself. "James, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking at all, I should have realized-Hydra was probably, I should have-."

"It's not Hyrda Melody," Bucky said, rolling his eyes as he heard what she was saying. "You didn't unleash some long-buried memory." Melody wasn't Hydra, Hydra had never made him feel like this. 

"Then what's wrong?" she asked, coming closer to him as color returned to her face. "James talk to me, I can help you."

Her hand rested on his shoulder, a warm sort of weight that sent a flash of yearning through Bucky. He felt another tremor wrack his body and shrugged away, not wanting the feeling that came with her touch and desiring it more than anything at the same time.

"No you can't," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Not with this." The only thing that could help was the one thing that wouldn't happen. 

"James," Melody tried, her hand touching him again and this time, rather than just shrug her off Bucky stepped to the side and away from her.

"I know you mean well," Bucky told her, hearing his voice crack again. "But this is no case you can't solve."

"You won't let me try," she accused, a hard edge entering her voice. Bucky knew what it was, she was ready to continue the debate for as long as it took to get what she wanted. 

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I care about you, a lot. More than I should actually and it makes being around you really hard sometimes." _Please let that be enough_ , he thought, _please, you're smart, figure this out. Don't make me say it._ Bucky didn't want to say those three words aloud, they'd just hurt both of them.

Melody frowned at him, arms crossed.  "I don't understand how those correlate."

Bucky swallowed hard. "I love you. And I know you don't feel that for me, I'm just a patient and I get that. I get that this is my problem. It's just not easy to deal with, but don't worry about it., I'll be okay." He wasn't so sure about the last part but he didn't want her to worry or feel guilty over all this. His eyes burned a little and he ducked his head-he would not cry in front of her he had to be stronger than that. Bucky began to walk away but had barely taken a step when Melody's hand closed firmly around his wrist. The feeling pain and pleasure coursed through him again and Bucky shut his eyes against it. This wasn't helping him deal with anything. He tensed, ready to yank his arm away but stopped short as a new feeling overtook him, something that overpowered everything else. Something soft and very warm pressing against his lips. Bucky's eyes flew open, body seizing up as he saw Melody, leaning into him, her eyes closed and kissing him. Her free hand curled around his face, hesitant and trembling and it only lasted a second longer before she broke away.

"With everything you know about me," she said softly,  her long fingers running gently down his face "With everything you've done for me, how can you still think I only see you as a patient? James, you're not a patient, you're so much more." Melody's hand left his face, touching her lips like she could still feel their kiss and a faint blush stained her face. 

Bucky didn't waste anymore time. He reached out, holding Melody's face in his hands and pulled her close before bending down to kiss her.  He felt her body stiffen against his, but it vanished in a second and Bucky felt her lean into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, deepening their kiss. And suddenly, what had started out as soft became desperate.  Bucky let his hands slide down her face, to her shoulders, then her sides and around to her back to hold her tighter. Her muscles were hard underneath his hands, the definition clear even through her thick sweater. Her lips were warm against him, just like the rest of her body and they moved with Bucky's eager and demanding as they claimed him.

Kissing Melody was unlike anything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Better than anything he had ever imagined. The taste of her kiss, of salt and strawberries, her hands twisting into his hair, the way the smell of steel and soap clung to her skin and hair. Bucky had never imagined those details, but they were there. They were real and tangible, making the experience so vivid Bucky's head spun.

They broke apart and Bucky rested his forehead against Melody's shoulder and gasping for air and dizzy with disbelief. 

"You're so beautiful," Bucky panted, letting his fingers continue to trace  the shape of her muscles and bones. 

"I'm not beautiful," was the immediate response and he pulled away, only slightly so he could look at Melody. 

"Why do you always say that?" he demanded, cupping her face with his metal hand. "You know that I'm not trying to tease you. I'm serious."

"I know you're serious," Melody replied. "But you're misinformed on the topic. I'm not beautiful."

"Stop saying that," Bucky pressed a kiss to her lips, quick but still making him burn with need. "You're beautiful."

"No I'm not!" Melody's voice shot through three octaves and Bucky jumped at the harsh sound and pulled away again, staring at her as tears ran down her face.

"Melody," Bucky said, wiping them away, unsure of what he could say to comfort her. 

"I'm not beautiful," she said again, voice breaking. 

"What are you talking about?"

Melody looked into Bucky's eyes, blinking away tears and shaking. "You don't know what I look like," she told him. "No one does." She let  her arms fall away from him and then stepped back before leaning over the sink.

"Melody," Bucky said, already missing the feeling of her body pressed against his. "What's wrong?" Did she regret their kiss? Was she panicking as she fully processed the line they'd just crossed? Did she realize she'd just kissed the Winter Solider and couldn't handle it? Couldn't stomach kissing a man who'd been turned into a killer?

"No one knows what I look like," she said again, stretching upwards. "And that's why they think I'm beautiful. They've only seen my face. But," she laughed, the sound harsh. "They're all wrong, including you. I'm ugly."

And then she moved out of her stretch, letting her arms bend and then she grabbed a handful of fabric from her sweater and began to pull it upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, since I was unable to post yesterday. Last minute Christmas shopping and night shift at work gobbled up my time. Thanks for reading! :)


	29. Twenty-Nine

Bucky could only stare as the black fabric crept up Melody's body. "W-what are you doing?" he managed, eyes glued to her as she moved. Melody didn't answer, but continued to undress and then, with one deft motion, she threw the sweater to the floor and the light of the setting sun fell across her bare back. What he saw made his heart stop.Though Bucky was loathe to admit it, he had wondered on occasion just what Melody looked like without her clothing. What he'd imagined was fairly simple, well defined muscles from her clearly active lifestyle and skin that would feel like silk if he touched it.  He had been half right. Melody's back muscles were clearly defined, but the skin covering them wasn't smooth. It was a war zone. 

The expanse of her back was matted with scars. Some where long and thin, as though they'd been placed there with a whip or cord of some kind. Others were short and thick, like she'd been hit with a blunt object. How many there were Bucky had no idea, they overlapped so much it was impossible to guess but one thing was clear: they all screamed of a lifetime of horrors and pain.

"Melody," Bucky said her name, struck dumb as he tried to process the gruesome sight.

She didn't reply to being addressed but turned around, her body shaking and her back vanished from view as her chest became visible. What Bucky saw there was just as terrifying as what was on her back. Though they were not as numerous as the ones on her back, Melody had scars marring her chest and stomach as well, five in total. One he'd already seen, the one on her arm which had been much longer than Bucky had thought, it began at her shoulder and veered off in a sharply before straightening out and following her arm. Another scar sliced between her breasts, straight as an arrow and then stopping just passed her rib cage. Her stomach bore three, two were about three inches long, running parallel like train tracks and Bucky realized perhaps a two-pronged weapon had been used to create it. The fourth one was off against her side, short and shallow-a stab wound that had collapsed her lung and nearly killed her. These were different than the ones on her back, they didn't speak of blind rage on the part of her abuser, but cold, calculating control and domination. 

_What kind of sick bastard would do this to a child?_ Bucky wondered as his eyes roamed over her body.

Melody turned away from him again, throwing her back into relief and a soft sob escaped her lips. "Do you see now?" she asked, her voice brittle. "I'm not beautiful, I'm ugly. John made sure of that." 

Her words were like cold water and he moved towards Melody, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her hair. "No," he whispered. John Frasier hadn't made sure of anything.  Shaking, Bucky bent his head and brushed a kiss against Melody's shoulder blade, feeling her tremble and gasp at the gesture.

"James," she said, voice shaking. "What are you-oh!"

Her words cut off as Bucky kissed her again, this time moving lower to the scars more towards her spine. Her back arched in response and Bucky smiled against her skin."He failed," he letting hi whispered, hands roaming across her stomach where he let his fingers trace the shape of the scars. Her

"John failed," he said again, turning Melody around with one deft motion so that he could see her face. Her eyes were shining and her face was flushed. "He failed Melody," he leaned forward, kissing her lips again relishing in the feeling. "If he was trying to make you ugly he failed. You are beautiful." He kissed her again, this time letting his mouth drift off her lips, down her jawline and then to her marred shoulder. 

"James," Bucky heard the objection in her voice and he broke off long enough to speak. cars were just a reminder of a struggle. In her story, Melody's struggle had been deadly, but she'd been stronger than what had tried to kill her. She'd survived and all her suffering hadn't made her cruel, it had made her compassionate. That was beautiful and he was done hearing her believe her father's lies. 

"No Melody," he said. He followed the scar across her collar as he ran his hands down her back, the texture of her skin rough under his palm. "You're beautiful."

"James," she tried again but Bucky wasn't having it. Not anymore.

"You're beautiful," he growled. "Do I need to say that in Russian or is English clear enough?" Bucky kissed her again, this time gently across the last portion of her scar and then he released her arm and then kissed her lips against, the sharp taste of salt on his tongue as he held her close.

"Melody," he whispered, drawing away and then pressing his forehead against hers. " _Never_ try to convince me that you're ugly ever again." Bucky smiled at her, the world swaying underneath him as he realized what he'd done. He'd never kissed Melody like that and normally he'd never have been daring enough to even try, but God, hearing her say something so untrue, seeing why she believed that and it had been too much. He couldn't use words to convince her how wrong she was. They had already failed. He needed to show her. And he'd only been able to think of one thing to do that.

He saw a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks and let go of her waist,  wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb. "Never again Melody," he told her. "Promise me."

"James," Melody said her hands trembling as she rested them against his chest, not pushing him away, but leaning against him. 

"Promise," he insisted, sliding his other arm around her waist and holding her closer. "Promise me."

"You know," she whispered, ignoring the question. "You are the first person to tell me that."

"That you're beautiful?" Bucky scoffed. "I doubt that." He let his metal hand trace up her spine, barely feeling the bumpy scars. He tangled the prosthetic into her hand and smiling as he felt her lean into his hand.

"You've seen what I look like and you told me I'm beautiful-no one has done that before."

Bucky's jaw clenched and he realized how lucky he was John Fraiser was dead. If that monster had still been alive Bucky wouldn't have been in the house and safely hidden. He'd have been out running police forces as he was linked to yet another murder. Though that one would have been more brutal than anything Hydra had ever made him do.

"I'll make sure to tell you more often," Bucky promised as he let his fingers fall from her hair and trace the shape her face. 

Melody smiled at him, the grin lighting up her entire face and making her entire more beautiful than she already was. The sight made his chest constrict almost painfully and he drew in a sharp breath which didn't go unnoticed by the doctor.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it' s just..."

"Just what?" she pressed, fingers curling into his shirt.

"You're half naked and I'm still holding you," Bucky said, his face burning as he fought back an embarrassed smile. He was pretty sure this wasn't what Melody had expected to end up at when she'd kissed him. 

"Is that a bad thing?"

"W-what?"

His words were choked which made Melody laugh. "Is it a bad thing that you're still holding me?"

"You tell me," Bucky said, his voice hoarse as he felt Melody's hands slide down his chest. The heat of her skin cutting through the fabric of his shirt.

"It's not a bad thing," her fingers curled around the hem of his shirt, sliding it upwards a fraction of an inch and her fingers brushed against the skin.

Bucky felt his stomach muscles jump in response and then he heard Melody laugh. "Are you ticklish?"

He shook his head. "No, you just surprised me."

Melody's hands moved again, drawing the garment farther up and Bucky began to tremble. _Is she doing what I think she's doing? Does she...does she want me?_

"Melody?" Bucky asked, throat drying out as he felt Melody trace over his stomach muscles with the precision that only a surgeon could have. "Melody what are we doing?"

She didn't answer him, but slid the shirt farther up and Bucky let her do it and shivering as the air cold rushed against his skin. The garment came off and Melody balled it up before throwing it to the floor where it joined her sweater.

"What are we doing?" he asked again, bracing his hand on the sink as the world began to sway while her fingers ran up and down his skin, tracing the muscles and bones with both familiarity and curiosity. 

Melody let her wandering hand stop and rest over Bucky's heart which was slamming like a drum against his ribs. She sighed, her breath uneven and her fingers curled into a fist. "Everything," she whispered. "We're doing everything."

 

 


	30. Thirty

The word echoed back in Bucky's mind; _everything._ One word that made his senses both heighten and narrow all in the same instance.

Everything about the world came into sharper focus, but that world had shrunk drastically-all he could see was Melody. The strands of her unbound hair, the goosebumps rising on her skin, the soft blush creeping up her face as she leaned into Bucky's chest.

He sighed, breathing in the scent of her skin and he felt her laugh as he absentmindedly let his fingers run up and down her scarred back. She was ticklish. The knowledge surprised Bucky a little, as he hadn't thought she would be that sort of person.

"Stop," she giggled, squirming against him. "That tickles!"

"I know," Bucky replied, grinning wickedly as pressed against her, effectively trapping her between the counter and him. "That's why I'm doing it." He moved his fingers again, laughing along with her as she tried in vain to wrestle out of his embrace.

"You're mean," she accused, breathless with laughter which told Bucky she was only teasing.

"Yeah I'm the worst," he agreed as he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers again, then breaking away to do the same against her cheek, her jaw and then her neck. Melody squirmed again, but this time she wasn't trying to get away. She was moving closer.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding her body even closer to his own. Bucky was eager to help with that and let his hands slide down her back towards her hips, and then with one swift movement he lifted her up and grinned as he heard a sharp exclamation of surprise as he set her on the counter.

"James," Melody gasped as he broke away and dotted her right shoulder and forearm with kisses. "Not here."

"Excuse me?"

"Not here," she repeated again, eyes shining. "I can't do this if we're here."

Bucky started to say it was just a kitchen but caught himself before the words got out. He was wrong, one hundred percent wrong. It was just a kitchen to him. It had probably been a torture chamber for Melody

"Okay," he said, lifting one of her hands to his lips. "We won't stay here." He gently guided Melody down from the counter, keeping a gentle grip on her hand which, though skilled at saving lives, as opposed to his own which were skilled at taking them-and they fit together anyway.

"Where can we go?" he asked. "What's someplace here that won't...be haunted?" Bucky wasn't sure of any other way to put it. And he was sure the honest answer was nowhere. There was no room in this house that wasn't holding a ghost or two for Melody. And yet...

Melody seemed to be reading his mind and she placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart. Her lips were on his again, soft and gentle and gone far too soon. "Follow me," she whispered, leading Bucky away from the marble counters and towards the stairs.

He followed, heart hammering in his chest. He was nervous though he had no reason to be. Bucky knew what he was doing and more so, this was Melody. 

She was different. She was someone Bucky knew and someone who knew him.

There were no secrets. No hidden agendas and missions to carry out. Just them.

Melody led Bucky up the stairs, the hallway covered in shadows as the sun sunk on the horizon. With a deft motion, she opened the door to the room they sharedÂ  and Bucky couldn't entirely hide his surprise.

"It's the only place I've ever felt safe in this house," Melody explained, voice low. 

A pang shot through Bucky and he squeezed her hand. The only place she felt safe in her own home was when she shared a room with the Winter Solider. The notion both saddened Bucky and heartened him too. Sad, that she'd never known safety in her house and thrilled that she felt secure with him.

Melody ran a hand over his back, tracing the bones and muscles again and Bucky shivered, feeling heat radiate from every point that she touched. 

"Cold?" she asked, her breath tickling his neck as she leaned closer, her skilled hands still running over his back and shoulders. 

"Depends," Bucky said, hearing his voice hitching in his throat. "Can you keep me warm?"

"With ease," Melody promised, grabbing his human arm and tugging him backwards towards their bed. "Just stay close."

Bucky smiled and tangled his metal hand into Melody's hair and let his other hand snake around her waist. She leaned closer, closing the distance between their bodies ever so slightly, just enough that they were chest to chest again, as they'd been earlier in the kitchen. 

Bucky's eyes began to close, turning his world black and though his sight was gone, his other senses gathered plenty of information.

The sheets, smooth and cool against his skin as he leaned forward, resting both their bodies against the mattress. Melody's responses as he ran his hands down her body again-her sighs as she found pleasure and the sharp giggles as his fingers found a spot that was ticklish.

But even as Bucky let himself touch her, he felt her doing the same to him. 

Her hands slid through his hair, down his face, then to his chest and stomach, leaving trails of heat across his skin. Something about her touch was strange, shy but also sure and certain. He wasn't sure how such a combination was possible but he let it go. People were a mess of contradictions. It was an inescapable part of being human.

He felt her fingers brush against his hipbones as she toyed with the waistband on his jeans and eagerness doubled it's hold on him as he felt her undo the button and slide the garment down. _Are we really doing this?Â_ Bucky found himself thinking as he kicked the denim off his legs and onto the floor. _Are we really going to do this?_

The apparent answer was yes, as they continued to kiss and their hands continued to roam about one another. Bucky's heart hammered in his chest, his breath ragged, matching Melody's as he hooked her leg around his waist, the fabric of her jeansÂ  clinging tightly to her body. It suggested at what was hidden underneath and damn if Bucky didn't want to know exactly what was there.

He let his weight fall forwards, pressing even tighter against Melody and with one deft motion Bucky broke off their kiss and let his head fall into the crook of her shoulder as he caught his breath.

"James," Melody's voice was ragged and the sound drove Bucky wild. He'd heard her when she was angry, afraid, sad, happy and every other thing, but this was different. This was what desire sounded like and God he loved it.

And for the first time he could recall, he actually liked the sound of his given name. 

Bucky grinned, bestowing a sloppy kiss on her collar bone before speaking as he let his hand slide towards the clasp of her bra. With one quick flick of his fingers the hooks came loose and Bucky pulled the garment off Melody's body, fully exposing her breasts and the long scar her father had left between them.

Melody must have realized that as well, for she tried to move her arm across the disfigurement, apparently ashamed the old wound.

Bucky grabbed her wrist, stopping her and shaking his head. "Don't," he said, his voice rough. _You don't have to hide from me,_ he thought, but he did not say that aloud. Words wouldn't help Melody see the truth of what he felt right now, the conditioning from her father prevented that. He'd taught her the scars were something to be hidden, to be ashamed of and something that made her ugly. 

Bucky's words wouldn't convince her of anything. But perhaps, over a long enough period of time, actions could.

So Bucky decided this could be one of those instances were he could show her the truth. 

Never taking his eyes off Melody's, Bucky let go of her arm and pressed a kiss to the scar, following the length of it down between her breasts, hands holding her firmly against the mattress though her back still arched slightly in response to the gesture. 

He continued, lower, letting his mouth graze the two parallel scars on her stomach and then the stab wound on her side. 

"You're beautiful," Bucky murmured against her skin, feeling her fingers tangle in his hair. "So beautiful."

Melody laughed. "In English please?"

"That wasn't English?" Bucky felt heat rise up his neck. Looking back, he realized he'd slipped into Russian. "Sorry."

Melody sat upright and pressed a fleeting kiss to Bucky's lips and he could feel her smile. "It's fine," her fingers crept up his neck, "what does it mean?"

"Beautiful," Bucky told her, cupping her face with his hands. "It means beautiful."

Melody smiled again and tried to duck her head, no doubt biting back the urge to tell him he was wrong. Bucky sighed and kissed her again, slowly and deeply, feeling heat flash through his body as Melody returned his embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair and her lips eager against his.

Bucky's hand slid down her waist, toying with the waistband of her pants Melody squirmed, giggling as he touched a ticklish spot on her stomach. 

Her hands curled into his hair and pulled him down towards her. "Help me take these off," she told him, breath hot in his ear asÂ  her hips moved against his. Not that Bucky really needed to be convinced. 

His hand crept towards the waistband again this time intending to slide them off, but a sharp, screeching noise stopped him and he looked around for the source of the noise.

"Oh dammit," Melody growled, her hand fell off Bucky's neck and she groped for the nightstand and grabbed the cell phone resting on it. Bucky hadn't even noticed that it was there. She must have put it there earlier.

She answered the phone, giving Bucky an apologetic grin and holding up one finger. The silent message was clear; she just needed a moment. 

"Doctor Frasier," she said, brushing her mussed hair from her face. Melody said nothing, brows drawing together, listening intently and in an instant, the bright spots of color on her face faded and her skin became the color of milk. 

Her bright eyes darted to Bucky then, and then squeezed shut and she sighed heavily. "I'll be there in a half hour." She pressed a button on the cell and then pushed Bucky away, a pained expression on her face as she grabbed her bra from the floor and threw it on as she hurried towards the closet and grabbed another long-sleeved shirt from the closet and tossed it on as well.

Bucky sat upright, already missing the feeling of her body against his own. "Melody?"

"A train veered off the tracks," she said, hurrying to collect a pair of shoes. "Multiple traumas. They need everyone they can get. I'm so sorry."

She threw on the shoes and gave Bucky one burning look and then her eyes shut again and she sprinted out of the room and it wasn't two minutes later that he heard the roar of the old truck outside.

Bucky was alone. Melody was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thanks to the two other guests who left a kudos on the last chapter! I appreciate it! Thank you for reading! :)


	31. Thirty-One

Melody stumbled up to the porch and collapsed on the swing. The cool autumn night felt like a relief against her burning skin. She'd been running around for the last five hours at least. She'd watched one bloodied, broken body after another roll into her ER and she'd declared three of them dead the moment they rolled in. 

They'd already been past her help. The EMT only needed a doctor to make the official call.Â  

All those people. Men, women, children and teens alike had all come into the hospital. Some with minor cuts, bruises and bumps. Others with deep cuts that had required suture after suture. And others were worse still, broken bones, internal injuries that had given Melody and her team a battle just to keep them breathing.

The panicked crowd of families, not sure if their loved ones were in the ER, the morgue or still at the site of the accident. All confusion as they tried to get answers from the nurses, interns and doctors without much success. 

Even when Melody had finally madeÂ  her way out the hospital they were still identifying the dead and the living and the waiting room of the ER was full of the terrified folks who still didn't weren't sure if their loved ones were alive, the heartbroken ones who knew they were dead and the tense ones who waited for the status of alive to either stay stable or change on a dime.

All in all, not her best night. Not by a long shot. 

_Well,_ _not my best night in the ER at least,_ she thought, recalling what she'd been doing before the hospital called and she spent her evening elbow deep in John Thomas's body trying to fix the damage inflicted on his liver during the accident.

Before that happened she'd been with James. 

A blush flashed across her face and though she was alone, Melody hid her face in her hands as she recalled all of it. James's pained voice as he said "I love you". Melody holding tight to him, refusing to let him leave before she could tell him the truth.

The kiss that sent her heart racing and fire through her blood. His arms around her, strong and gentle. His voice low and rough when he said "you're beautiful".Â  The immediate pain that shot her through her hearing that and her instant response that he was wrong. 

But she knew that he'd never believe her, James was too stubborn, and so Melody had closed her eyes, keeping the memory of what she thought would be their last kiss in her mind and showing him the truth.

Melody had thought he'd never look at her the same way again.

She'd never been so wrong in her life. 

The skin of her shoulder blade and spine tingled, remembering the feeling of James's lips against her skin. The feeling spread to her mouth, collarbone, chest and stomach, recalling every kiss, every touch, every word James had whispered against her skin, in English or not. 

Melody's face burned again. She'd never done anything like that before. Never let anyone see the scars. Never let someone touch them. Never let someone touch her like that. At least not sober. She did have a one night stand in med school, but both her and the other student had been drunk beyond reason and Melody had not allowed him to remove her shirt or touch her underneath it.

Even in a state of inebriation Melody had protected her secret. She had not let the other student get close.Â  She had not let him in which didn't make for a very intimate or close relationship. 

And earlier last night, it had been exactly that. An intimate moment, letting herself be exposed physically and emotionally-and those were two things Melody never allowed. 

Exposure was a weapon others could use to ruin her. If her secret got out, if others knew how dark her mind was, how much inhumane acts Melody was capable of committing they would never allow her to be in the OR again. She'd lose her license and lose the one thing that had taught her she was capable of turning her tunnel vision into more than a tool for murder.

And those scars, those overlapping, never-ending scars that made her stomach twist with disgust even though she'd been looking at them for twenty years. They disgusted Melody and she was used to them. People who weren't accustomed to them would react even more strongly, or so Melody had feared.

James certainly had reacted strongly, but it hadn't been with disgust. 

She rubbed at her arms and shook her head, still barely able to believe the response and what had followed. Though she'd scrubbed into work and the OR that evening, she could still smell James on her. The combination of his soft hair, soap and metal. God, Melody loved that smell. It helped ground her after her nightmares struck. It lulled her to sleep as James put his arm around her and reminded her that she was safe even though the house made it hard to believe. 

Melody sighed and ran her hands through her hair which was now tangled in knots and greasy. She should shower first, but her body was heavy and sore and her mind was slow with many thoughts still roaming about, but the loudest of them was the desire to sleep.

Melody dragged herself off swing and unlocked the door to the house and as she did, in her tired mind, she heard Moria and John shouting at each other. That was when the ghosts were the worst, after a long day of chaos, panic and declaring people dead. That was when the ghosts like to spring up and howl.

The words the memories of her so-called parents shouted were incoherent, but the meaning was still clear. John was angry and Moria was terrified and she was about to be leveled with a good punch or slap across the face.Â  

Melody shook her head against the memories, hoping the motion would dispel them but she had no such luck. The shouting got louder as Melody moved through the entryway and kicked off her sneakers. As she passed the kitchen, the shadows on the cabinets and walls became spatters of blood. Her blood she knew. Her father always used the belt in the kitchen, the floors were easy to scrub clean afterwards. 

_It's not real, it's not real,_ she chanted to herself as she walked up the stairs, fighting back tears as she heard the voice of her nine year old self being thrown down the structure, crying out and screaming the entire way down.

Still, the knowledge it was only in her head didn't keep her heart at a steady rate and didn't stop the noise.

Melody crept into her bedroom, trying to breath evenly and shaking as she shut the door softly behind her. She scanned the dark room and her eyes zeroed in on the bed where she'd been tangled up with James hours before.

He was still there, a dark shape underneath the covers, breathing steadily. He was asleep.

Melody's heart expanded at the sight and for a moment, the ghosts quieted down as she watched James sleep. They weren't real, but he was.

Quietly as she could, Melody stripped out of her clothing, grabbed a shirt that was hanging over the foot of the bed and slipped it on.

Melody crept towards her side of the bed and licked her lips. Though she knew James needed rest, she also remembered what he'd told her once, that if she ever needed him, he was there and she could wake him up if needed.

The ghosts in her head had quieted down, but they were still there. The sound of belt bucklesÂ  whistling through the air followed instantly by the angry ripping of flesh being torn. The short, choked sound of being strangled. They were all still there, angry, whispering and waiting for a chance to jump on her mind and tear it apart.

"James?" Melody whispered. "James?" She spoke louder, continuing in a gradual increase until he stirred and sat upright. Sudden noises could trigger attacks, she knew, so this was the best option.

"Melody?" he yawned, half of his brown hair mussed and knotted from sleep. "You're home," he smiled tiredly but then his grin flickered and vanished as he got a better look at her. "Melody, are you okay?"

A tear slid down her face and she shook her head. "No, I'm not okay." She lied down on the mattress and rolled over towards James who instantly reached towards her face and wiped away the tears. A kind gesture, but it was in vain as more took it's place.

"What happened?"

"Fifty-three people came into my hospital tonight," Melody said, a lump in her throat as she stared at the ceiling and heard the sound of breaking glass echo in her mind. "And I had to declare three of them dead and I still haven't been able to find their families. And I am exhausted and being here in this house doesn't make me feel better and I really need a hug." Her voice broke as she said that and she felt tears run down her face.

James obliged instantly and Melody felt herself being enveloped in his embrace and she focused on that. She focused on the sound of his breathing, his heart, the feeling of skin and metal pressing against her, James's voice, husky and soft, telling her that she was not alone. The smell of his skin permeating the air. 

Those things were all real and little by little the ghosts became silent enough for Melody to fall into a shallow, troubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	32. Thirty-Two

"Bucky?" Sharon's voice sounded in the entryway and Bucky hurried out from the kitchen and shushed her. 

"What?" the agent said, her voice much softer now, staring with confusion at Bucky as she scanned the house of danger.

"Melody is still sleeping," he whispered. "And she needs to sleep."

Sharon's tense stance relaxed. "What happened? Is she okay?"

Bucky shrugged and beckoned Sharon into the kitchen. He'd taken the liberty of cleaning it when he'd woken up so the white marble counters and stainless steel appliances shone in the morning sunlight. 

Bucky poured Sharon a cup of coffee, assuming that she probably needed her morning intake of caffeine same as Melody. 

"Thanks," she said, taking the mug and standing across from Bucky, the gleaming island between them. "So what happened?"

"She was called into work last night, train derailed."

"I heard about that," Sharon said taking a sip of coffee. "Five confirmed dead so far and one-hundred and fourteen confirmed injuries."

Bucky winced. "Damn, not awful but not great either." He took a sip of coffee. "How many of the injuries are critical?"

Sharon shrugged. "Melody would know better, but I don't have a clue."

"I'm not going to ask," Bucky said. "Besides, I don't think she's allowed to answer, confidentiality and all that." 

Sharon nodded and glanced back at the stairs a moment before dropping her voice even lower. "You've checked on her though right? Made sure-."

"She's fine," Bucky said, realizing the reason for Sharon's worry. She didn't know the truth of Melody's life and that was her reason for misinterpreting her behaviors the way she did. "I just got back down here in fact. She's still out cold."

"That's great," Sharon sighed in relief. She downed some more coffee and then smiled at Bucky over the rim of her mug. "Thank you, for looking after her. You're good with her."

Bucky shrugged and tried to hide his smile. He was glad Sharon approved but the memories of the other night played over in his mind. What it felt like to hold Melody, the feeling of her skin against his, every kiss, every touch and every moment right up until she'd be called away. Yeah, Bucky certainly had been looking after Melody...

"Bucky are you even listening to me?"

"What? Sorry?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "I said-."

"Sharon?" Melody's sleepy voice sounded from the stairway and Bucky turned around to see her stumbling into the kitchen bleary-eyed and...wearing his shirt.

He owned a few items of clothing and one of them was a long-sleeved red shirt which Melody had apparently donned at some point. The shirt was a bit short on Bucky, but on her it was a dress, hanging passed her knees and she had to roll back the sleeves a few times to properly free her hands. 

Sharon eyed her friend for a moment and then her gaze slid over to Bucky. "Um, is that a new shirt Mel?"

"No," the doctor yawned. "I got back from the hospital late and wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. Sorry James." She looked around a moment, dazed and then abruptly moved towards the coffee pot.

Sharon tensed up and moved toward it as well, grabbing her friend's wrist to halt her movement. "Why don't you sit down Mel?" she offered, "I'll grab you some coffee."

"I can get my own coffee Sharon," she yawned.

"I'm scared you'll miss the mug," the agent replied. "You're half-awake."

"Well of course I am," Melody said, stumbling towards a stool. "I haven't had my coffee yet."

"I don't think coffee can cure you," Sharon said, handing her a large cup. "You look exhausted."

"She does have the right to be," Bucky commented, "she did get home this morning."

"Don't you mean last night?"

"No, it was technically morning."

Melody didn't comment on their banter, she was intently focused on her coffee. 

"So what brings you out here?"

Sharon grabbed an apple from the basket and took a bite. The sound of the crisp fruit breaking apart filled the kitchen. "Came here to ask Mel what she wanted to do-."

"Nothing," the doctor spoke up then, apparently whatever Sharon had been about to say was more important than coffee. "I want to do nothing."

"But it's your birthday," Sharon protested and Melody rolled her eyes.

Melody shook her head. "It's just another day."

Now it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes. "Mel-."

"If you want me to enjoy my birthday, please don't make me celebrate it."

Sharon frowned and looked ready to say more, but at that moment a shrill ring of a pager went off.

Bucky, remembering the other night when it had been a cell phone that had called Melody away struggled not to break the cup in his hand. "Are you serious?" He said before he could stop himself. "You were already called in last night and you've barely slept," he added casting a glance at Sharon and hoping she wouldn't look too closely. "They can't honestly think you can just-."

"Not my pager or my cell," said Melody, plopping both items on the counter and neither were lit up or vibrating. "And you don't have one so that leaves you," she pointed to Sharon who was blushing furiously and digging into the pocket of her jeans.

She tapped the screen of the phone and said, "Agent Carter." Sharon said nothing then, only listening intently and then her mouth drew into a hard line. "On my way," she then hung up and flashed Melody an apologetic look.

"I'm-."

Melody pointed towards the door, effectively cutting her off. "You need to go and from what it sounds like, you need to go _now_. So go, kick some ass for me and make whomever is out causing trouble soon regret it."

Sharon nodded, a half-smile on her face and without further ado she hurried towards the door. Melody smiled and then abruptly spun around, shouting at her retreating friend. "And for the love of God don't do something stupid like dying!"

At face-value the words seemed like a joke, but Bucky saw the slump of Melody's shoulders and the fear written across her face. Before he heard Sharon's car roar to life he turned his gaze from the door and regarded Melody.

"Are you okay?"

Melody shrugged. "I hate when she goes off like that. It only ever happens if things are really serious."

"Doesn't she feel the same way when you have to leave like that?"

"No," she shook her head. "My job is to heal people the gunman shoots. Her job is to take down the shooter." Her hands tightened on her mug. "It scares me. I'm scared she'll come across someone she can't beat and backup won't get there in time."

Her voice got softer as she spoke and her legs drew upwards, shrinking at the very thought of loosing Sharon.

"Steve's probably with her," Bucky said, trying to reassure her. "He won't let anything happen to her." He didn't think there would be anything reassuring at all in his words-he knew the fear she was describing perfectly. He thought the same thing about Steve. 

"He's a great man," said Melody, "but he is only human. Humans make mistakes."

Bucky let his hand creep across the island top towards hers. "You sound like your excluding yourself from that group."

"I make mistakes," she said, and she took a slow sip of coffee and sighed. "I just don't feel very human. Not after last night."

Bucky felt a pang slice through his chest and breathing suddenly became a little harder. "I, I don't understand." Bucky knew what it felt like to not feel human-seventy years of Hydra had shown him that. But how could Melody know that feeling? And what was more, how could she feel that after what had happened between them? 

How could she say she didn't feel human after something like that? 

Bucky, he hadn't felt like that in...well he honestly couldn't say. Those two elements had never really collided before that he could recall. That nearly overwhelming need to just be with someone, the emotions that came with it-they were all so human. And she couldn't feel that?

"All those people that came through, from the train," Melody said slowly, fingers tapping against the ceramic of her cup. "I didn't see them-not as people. They were just injured bodies. The scalpel I had in my hand when I was operating, I was using it to save a life, but I could have driven it into their liver to kill them and felt the same thing: nothing."

Bucky's apprehension drained out of him. "Melody, you didn't hurt anyone. People are _alive_ because of you."

"If they knew how I did it," she whispered. "They wouldn't be grateful, they'd be horrified."

"But they don't know," Bucky said, hearing a little more bite in his tone than was helpful. Trying to reign it in, he reached out to Melody and gently pulled one of her hands off her mug and twined his fingers through hers. "It doesn't matter."

"What's wrong with me?" She pulled her hand out of his grip, though not harshly and stared at her hand, silent and apparently awaiting an answer.

"Nothing is wrong with you," he said, reaching out and rubbing her back. Admittedly, he still felt wary as he did so, but he shook it off in the same moment. What was there for him to be shy about? He'd almost slept with her.

"People don't do what I do."

Bucky was pretty sure she wasn't talking about surgery. "I did," he reminded her, tapping his metal fingers on the counter to further his point. "I did exactly that for seventy years."

" _After_ someone threw your brain into a blender. _After_ someone else rewired your mind to let you do that. You never would have been like that otherwise. That's not the same thing. No one did that to me. I just...did it."

She sighed heavily and stared at her hand again. "I wondered, for a while, after it happened, if maybe, that was how he did things. If that was why John could hurt me so easily."

"You're _nothing_ like him." Bucky nearly spat the words out, his blood spiking hotly with rage as he thought of Melody's supposed "father". For what might have been the hundredth time, Bucky thanked his rare lucky stars John Frasier was dead. 

"Maybe not in that regard," Melody allowed, much to his surprise. "He was always so angry. Every time he would lash outÂ  he was angry. Just beyond rational. But when I...do what I do, there's nothing. No anger, no fear, no compassion-I'm just...devoid of everything."

She pushed away her coffee and rested her arms and head on the counter. Bucky watched a moment, unsure if she was about to cry or fall asleep. After several minutes passed without her whimpering or shaking, Bucky realized which it was. 

"Kitchen islands," he said, hopping off his stool and wrapping his arms around the half-asleep doctor. "Are _not_ places to sleep. Come on, you need to sleep."

Melody mumbled something unintelligibly and Bucky sighed. Some things never changed. He slid his metal arm around her back and the other underneath her legs, the skin warm and smooth against his arm.

 _Don't think about it,_ Bucky thought fiercely to himself. Already the urge to caress her bare skin was driving through him but he shut it down as much as he could. She'd had a crazy night and was completely exhausted-now was not the time to think about things like that. Now was not the time to think about what had almost happened either.

She needed to rest. 

Bucky laid Melody down on the couch, not trusting himself to bring her back to their bedroom-too many memories, too high a chance for wayward thoughts and actions. He covered her up and as per usual, she was so tired she remained asleep through it all.

Bucky brushed his fingers across her cheek and smiled at her sleeping form. "I love you," he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear him. "Sweet dreams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry about the delay in updates; Christmas gets to be a busy time for me (and I hope those who celebrate it had a merry one as well!) Thanks for reading! :)


	33. Thirty-Three

The stream of the hot water raced over Melody's aching body. The old couch, while good for lounging around on was not great for three hour naps. That, combined with the chaos of yesterday left her feeling achy and with that in mind, she had opted to clean up and take aÂ  shower.

The hot water certainly helped ease the knots out of her back and shoulders. Melody sighed and rubbed her shoulder, feeling scar tissue underneath her fingers instantly. She recoiled from it a moment, feeling the sting of a whip cutting across her skin. For a moment, she feared the memory would overwhelm her, but it was chased away, forced out by a different memory.

_"No,"Â  James's voice was rough as he held her. With one motion, slow and deliberate, James bent his head, brushing a kiss across her scarred shoulder blade.  
_

Melody reached for the tap and shut the water off. It was time to get out. She grabbed her robe off the hook nearby, wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower. 

_What's going to happen to us now?_ she wondered, wiping steam from the mirror, her skin tingling as she recalled the feeling of James's hands on her. They couldn't just ignore what happened and return to things as they had been. But where did that leave them?

Melody wasn't sure, but it wouldn't be any place good. They would never work. She knew that as well as she knew how to do a running whip stitch. He was the Winter Solider, a wanted in God knew how many countries for the various assignments Hydra had sent him on. She was a surgeon with a great reputation who had built her life entirely on secrets and lies.

How could they become anything when they had to wear chains like that? It was hopeless. But even so, it couldn't change how she felt when she was around James. How natural it felt when he held her as they slept, the way his smile made her chest ache and how after a rough day, just seeing him made her feel better. 

Melody sighed and left the bathroom, head spinning with conflicting thoughts. She dressed slowly, sliding on a pair of old jeans and the shirt she'd borrowed from James the night before. Though it was several sizes too large for her, the old material was soft against her skin and was comfortable. She wasn't quiet ready to give it back yet.

She combed through her damp hair and then wondered about whether or not to return to her apartment in the city (her primary home if she wasn't attending to superheros) or find James and talk.

The smart thing to do would have been to leave for a while, clear her head and then return. But Melody didn't want to leave. The apartment would seem so empty and if James were to fall asleep and if nightmares tore him apart he'd be alone to deal with them. 

Melody frowned, making a note of that. Sometimes, she knew that was the case indeed. She'd be at work and he'd be alone to deal with the aftermath of his past coming back to haunt him. _There has to be some way to help with that,_ she thought, rubbing her neck. _There has to be something I can do for him.  
_

That made the choice for her. She needed to be here for him as often as she was able. As of now, she had no real reason to leave. No pressing matter that absolutely demanded she be present to deal with it. And for that reason, she was going to stay.

Melody strode over to her closet and dug around a moment, looking for a sweater, but instead found her empty _Star Wars_ box. It had housed the DVDs at one point, but James had brought them downstairs weeks ago. They'd started them that day, but they'd both been too exhausted to even make it through the first one. Perhaps today they could finish what they'd started.

She hurried downstairs, suddenly eager to watch the films again. "James?" Her voice echoed back in the house but no answer came.

Fear spiked her blood and she reached for the gun holstered to her thigh. Since giving James her other gun she'd went out and purchased one identical to it and kept it on her person as often as she could. Sadly, the hospital was a gun-free zone, which she felt stupid. A criminal wouldn't obey that law and they'd walk right in with a semi-automatic if they wanted to do so. She'd much rather be armed if and when that day came.

Drawing the gun, she walked slowly into the kitchen and looked around the gleaming white counters and shiny hardwood floors. Nothing. 

"James?" she called again as she crept into the living room. Heart in her throat and her body tense and ready to either run or fight.

When she heard a sharp noise she spun around, clicking off the safety and pointing the barrel towards the target. 

"Hey!" James exclaimed, blue eyes wide and hands up in surrender. "Easy!"

"I'm so sorry!" Melody clicked the safety back on and returned the gun to it's proper place. "I couldn't find you and I thought-."

"It's alright," James said, lowering his hands and laughing shakily. "I'm glad you're prepared at least." He rolled upright and Melody guessed from his messy hair that he had been asleep. Dammit.

"I didn't wake you did I?" she asked, feeling her hands tremble as she tentatively took a seat next to him.

James yawned which was answer enough, but denied it anyway. "I was just dozing. Nothing really and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." 

"Sorry I overreacted."

"I'd rather you did that than be caught off guard." James said seriously. "Just in case, it's better to be safe than to be sorry. If something happened to you..." James trailed off, face turning red as he rubbed his neck.

Melody felt herself blush as well. "I understand. I don't want anything to happen to you either."

James smiled shyly at her. "So what did you want? You said you couldn't find me I assume you were looking for me?"

Melody's face grew even hotter. "Um, yeah I was."

"So?"

"Well, I was digging in my closet upstairs and I found my case for my Star Wars films." She began, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. "I remember you said you wanted to see them but we never got around to it. And since that was my fault, keeping you up the way I did, well I thought maybe you'd like to try and get through them again?"

James smiled at her. Melody tried to ignore how it made her pulse race. "I'd love that."

***

The movie wasn't that far in before she realized she was being stared at. Her life had taught her to stay on edge, to be watchful and be prepared and it had left her hyper-sensitive to when she was being observed.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked, turning her head enough to look at James who, rather than watching the movie was watching her.

His face flushed red instantly. "Sorry."

Melody laughed in spite of herself. "You know, for an assassin you're not really that sneaky."

"I'm sneaky when I need to be." 

She was about to reply when her world turned sideways and suddenly she was laying down, held against the couch by James who was laughing. "See?" he said. "You didn't even see that coming."

"No," she laughed. "I didn't."

"You're usually more observant," James commented, a teasing grin on his face.

"I'm usually more caffeinated," Melody pointed out. _And far less distracted.Â_ She added in her mind as she fully absorbed how close James was to her. His legs pressing into hers, his hands on her wrists, pinning her down and the intoxicating the scent of his skin like a cloud between them.

"So," she asked after a moment, "are you going to answer my question or not?" What she should have asked was obvious. She should have asked him to let her go and then taken the chance to get a little distance from him. Problem was that she didn't want distance at all. She wanted to be closer.

"You look really good in my shirt," he said, blue eyes sparkling. "I couldn't help but enjoy the view."

Melody felt heat stain her face. "Thanks but-."

"Don't finish that sentence," James warned, his grin vanishing which troubled Melody. 

"What's wrong?"

"You're not allowed to do that anymore," he informed her in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"To do what?"

He rolled his eyes. "The same thing you do every time someone tells you that you look good. You say they're wrong or misinformed."

"Being realistic," she began but she words stopped abruptly as James's crushed his mouth to hers-effectively stopping any forms of speech.

Melody's heart swelled in her chest as she felt James's lips against hers. They were warm, soft but somehow unyielding. He wasn't backing down from his position. This was his argument-completely nonverbal and yet the position was crystal clear. He was never going to let her get away with saying "you're wrong" in response to being called beautiful.Â 

James's broke away and then kissed her forehead. "Never again," he said, voice rough. "You promised."

"No I didn't," she said back, breathing hard. "I never promised anything like that. You just told me to. I never said the words."

"Then say it now. Promise me that now."

 _I can't,_ she wanted to say. Melody had been looking at the scars for twenty years, she'd hidden them for just as long because she feared the questions people would ask. She'd been told over and over again by the two people who had known about them that they made her ugly. She had no idea how to overcome that and listen to different voices.

"Promise me Melody," James insisted, metal fingers tracing circles into her left wrist. "Please."

She sighed, defeated. "I promise."

James bent his head and pressed a kiss against her neck. "Was that so hard?" he teased and Melody didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling.

"It will be," she admitted. "Saying you'll do something is one thing, actually doing it is something else."

"You can do it," James said, no hint of hesitation or doubt in his voice.Â 

"You sound so sure."

"You've overcome everything else in your life," he pointed out. "You'll overcome this, not easily, but you will. I know it."

Melody smiled, reassured by his faith in her. "Are you going to let me up anytime soon?"

"Right sorry," he laughed as his grip loosened on her wrists as he sat up and the weight of his body left her own.

Melody sat up as well, but rather retreat to her side of the couch, she leaned into James and laid her head on his chest. "I said let me up," she whispered, fingers curling into his shirt. "I didn't say to let me go."

She felt him stiffen at first, surprised by her action but it faded out almost just as quickly. His arms wrapped around her, one against her back and the other around her legs and before she knew it, Melody was sitting in his lap.

"Better?" he asked, voice uneven.

Melody nodded. "Much better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry for the delay in updates! I've been really busy lately! Hope everyone has a Happy New Year! And to all those who've left kudos on this work-thank you! That was nice to log into! :)


	34. Thirty-Four

When the film credits rolled Bucky decided to break the silence that had stretched between him and Melody. Though the movie had been rather entertaining, something a bit heavier was weighing on his mind and now that the film was over it was even more pressing.

"Melody?" 

The doctor didn't move from her spot-the crook of Bucky's arm. "Yeah?"

"Today is your birthday." He'd gotten that much from the conversation she had Sharon had gone over earlier that morning. Sharon had wanted to celebrate the day and Melody had shot down the idea. 

"Yeah it is," her voice was softer than it had been before. Not as relaxed and at ease. "Why?"

"You don't want to celebrate it."

Melody sighed and rested her head against Bucky's chest. Closing her eyes she took another deep breath. "It's not that. At least not that exactly."

He let his fingers trail over her arm absentmindedly. "Then what is it? Why don't you celebrate your birthday?" He had thought she would want to-she had to fight for each one. In her house, she'd been lucky to stay alive, she'd had to fight for every year she saw right up until her father's death. Bucky thought that was plenty of reason to celebrate every year-she'd beat the odds. She'd made it out alive.

"I've never celebrated my birthday before." Melody explained, words coming out slowly. "And I'm afraid if someone tries to give a gift or throw me a party I'll start crying. Don't really want to explain that so I just don't do anything when it rolls around."

Bucky held Melody a little tighter for a moment. "That's awful."

"I wouldn't cry because I was sad, I'd cry because I was happy." 

"Then why not risk it? If anyone asks you could just say it's been a long time since you've done something like that. Blame it on your mother and her reaction to the death of her husband. People would believe that."

"I tell enough lies about John and Moria as it is," Melody replied. "Rather not tack on anymore than I have to. Too many stories to keep straight-I'd slip up."

"You don't know that."

"I don't," she conceded. "But I won't take the risk. If anything got out, if anyone tried to send me to a shrink for evaluation I don't know that I'd pass. They'd question whether or not I was in a fit state of mind to work and they'd start to dig. If they knew what I did, what I can do...They'd take away my license faster than I could say 'Code Blue'."

Bucky was silent for a moment. Finally, he mustered a response. "Your career is that important to you?"

Melody nodded. "It's not just my career."

"It's your life," Bucky finished. "I figured."

"No," she said. "It's not my life."

"No?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"It's redemption." That hadn't been what Bucky was expecting to hear. Passion, maybe, ambition, but not redemption. It wasn't at all the word that came to mind when he thought of Melody's surgical career.

Melody sat more upright so they were looking at each other. A half-smile was playing on her face. "You look confused."

"Because I am."

She laughed then. "I did something horrible. No matter the circumstances," she added hastily, as Bucky opened his mouth to argue. "I turned off my empathy and emotion and murdered a man while he slept. So I decided if I had to have that, if that was part of me and I couldn't get rid of it, I was going to use it for different outcomes. It's why I became a surgeon. Now, when I do that, I'm not killing someone. I'm trying to save their lives."

"But you said earlier, you didn't feel human after last night, after the train and all that."

Melody shrugged. "It's draining sometimes, flipping the switch between being a person and being a robot. It makes me feel like a freak. How I'll go from feeling nothing at all and then have everything come crashing back the moment things are over."

"You're not a freak. You're amazing," Bucky reached for her hand cradled it with his own. "You save lives. And you could have gone the other way. You could have used that switch for cruelty but you didn't. You turned it into something you could use to benefit others. You're extraordinary for sure, but not a freak." He let his fingers curl around hers and acting on instinct rather than rational, Bucky drew her hand towards him and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. "You saved my life too. Just thought you should know."

Melody's dark green eyes widened. "What?"

"I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you." He said, feeling a weak smile come to his face as he fought back embarrassment. "The things you taught me, how to help cope with the memories and make the bad days easier-I couldn't have figured that out alone. I didn't know that at first, but now I do. So, in short, you saved my life."

He loosened his grip, ready to let her go, but Melody held fast to his hand. Looking at their entwined fingers she spoke up. "Why did you kiss me last night?"

"You kissed me."

"That's not the kiss I'm talking about."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat and heat flashed through his body as he remembered what he'd done. He could feel the memory of the warm, scarred skin against his lips just thinking about it. "Oh you mean..."

"Yeah, that one."

Bucky felt his face grow warm and he found himself unable to look directly at her anymore. Instead, he followed her lead, opting to stare at their hands. One flesh and one metal, one skilled at saving lives and one skilled at taking lives, so different and yet they still fit together.

"I kissed you because I did not have the ability to hear you say you were ugly anymore. And I didn't think you'd just listen to what I said because you never do. I don't blame you for that," he added hastily. "I know how hard it is to undo years of conditioning."

"I bet you would," she agreed. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"My past isn't your fault either."

Bucky looked up at Melody again. "I know that, but it doesn't change how I feel." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair so he could see her face. "It doesn't change the fact that what happened to you should never have happened at all. To you or anyone."

"I can say the exact same thing to you." Melody said, lifting her face to look at him. "What happened to you," she tapped her fingers against the metal of his hand. "I can't imagine why anyone would do that to another person. I've tried to imagine what was going through their heads, why any doctor could or would do what they did to you, but I can't."

A tear slipped down her face and quickly she wiped it away, an embarrassed grin coming to her face. "Don't cry," Bucky said. "Not for me."

"I'm sorry," she wiped at her eyes again.

"Don't apologize either, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm supposed to be a little more composed," she explained. "Part of the job."

"So you're a doctor right now?"

"No."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm just Melody," she said. "And Melody's a little more emotional than Doctor Frasier." She wiped at her eyes for a third time. "And I don't really know how to be her. I guess that sounds crazy, sorry."

"No," Bucky said. "It doesn't. I know exactly what that's like. I feel like that every day. I'm not the Winter Solider anymore, but I'm not the man I was before either and now I'm trying to figure out who this new person is."

Melody smiled at him. "Well, for whatever it's worth I...I think this new person is a good man." She shifted closer to him, eyes shining and a smile on her face. "I'm glad that I know him. I'm glad he came through my front door."

"Even if he was an ass when you first met?"

"Yeah, even then. I'm still glad that I," her voice trailed off and she was even closer, her face close enough that Bucky could see the freckles on her nose. "I," she tried again, but she seemed to be at a loss for words. Bucky felt her free hand sweep across his face, warm fingers light against his skin and sending warmth through his body. 

She tucked some of his over-long hair behind his ear and her hand curled around his face. Her eyes closed and this time, Bucky wasn't surprised when he felt her lips touch his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today since I fell behind recently! Thank you for reading! :)


	35. Thirty-Five

Bucky's arms wrapped around Melody, drawing her closer. Their chests pressed against each other, their hearts beating in time with one another. The rhythm was fast and pounding.

He felt her hands press against his face, sliding back into his hair and then wrapping around his neck even as Bucky lifted her into his lap, allowing them to be even closer than they had been only seconds before. Heat poured through him as they kissed, blazing, fast and impossible to ignore. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to touch her, every inch. He wanted to memorize every curve of her body, ever mark and scar on her skin and everything in between. He wanted that so much it was dizzying. 

Bucky leaned back onto the couch, laying down and pulling Melody with him, her weight falling over him as they continued to kiss. Bucky let his hands slide down her sides, feeling the soft material of her shirt under his right hand. Well, it was his shirt, he realized, but he liked it a lot more on her.

"I really like you in that shirt," Bucky whispered against her lips, words short as his breath came in deep, uneven gasps. 

"Do you?" Melody asked, her words equally uneven as she ran her fingers through his hair over and over again. 

"Yeah," he answered, letting his head rest in the crook of her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her neck then and whispered. "But I'd like you better without it."

Bucky felt her pulse leap underneath his mouth but said and did nothing in response. He didn't let his hands slide down under her shirt, he didn't hold her tighter or do anything else he was burning to do. He wouldn't do that, not unless she told him to. 

Melody trembled against him and her voice was soft when she spoke. "You would?"

Bucky pulled away so that he could look at her face. He let his metal hand slide up her side and then curled it around her face. She leaned into his touch almost instantly and her hand curled over his. 

"Of course," he said, his voice rough even to his own ears. "You're beautiful."

A smile flashed to Melody's face, not quiet pained, but not entirely happy either. For a moment Bucky thought she'd object, as she usually did and he was already prepared to interrupt her as he'd done earlier that day. Never again would he let her get away with repeating the lies she'd been taught as a child.

But that didn't happen. The words that left her mouth was not an objection, but a question. "Can you feel things, with this arm I mean?" she hand tightened on his as she spoke. "I've always wondered and I had ideas, but I've never been sure."

Suddenly, her almost careless attitude towards his false arm made sense. She'd been touching it to test what it could and couldn't feel. It had been the doctor side of her that had been curious. "I can't feel much. Pressure sometimes, if it's strong enough, but that's pretty rare. I think they built it that way on purpose, as a way to make me more like a machine."

Melody regarded him for a moment and then she reached towards him, grabbing his prosthetic hand again and drawing it to her face. "It didn't work," she told him, a small smile on her face and then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she pressed a kiss to his palm. The senors in the hand couldn't register the gesture but it didn't matter. Every other part of Bucky felt it.

His heart skipped a beat, a jolt ran down his spine like an electric current and that burning sensation in his body heightened. Blistered and licked at every part of him like he was laying onÂ  a bonfire instead of a couch. But this was a much better way to burn.

"Melody," he said, unable to say anything else just then. 

She didn't say anything back, but fixed her gaze on him, eyes burning and pinning him in place. She kissed his wrist then, skin barely making a sound against the metal and then she guided his hand down, across her collar bone, her breasts, her stomach and down to the hem of the over-sized shirt. Bucky's fingers curled into the fabric instantly. "What are we doing?"

The doctor leaned in closer, her lips just brushing his ear as she whispered. "We're picking up where we left off." She let go of his hand then and her own hands gripped at her clothing and she removed the garment with something rather like haste. 

She then peeled off the bra underneath and it to fell onto the floor. "I think I was about here," she said, her chest heaving as she stared at him. "And if I recall correctly," her fingers hooked underneath the hem of his t-shirt, "this was missing too." She began to slide the shirt upwards Bucky was eager to help her and so arched his back so she could continue what she was doing. Finally, she pulled the garment over his head and tossed it to the floor. 

She grinned and rested a hand on his chest. "Much better." And then she leaned down, kissing him again, softly and he felt her tongueÂ  snake out and brush across his lips. Need arched through him as she left his lips, kisses trailing down his jawline and neck, then lower, onto his chest and Bucky arched in response to it.

Her lips and tongue were against his skin, exploring his body and teasing him. Her touch was like a drug, it was a high and Bucky had never felt anything so intense in his life. At least not that he was capable of recalling. Need rolled through him with each kiss against him, intense and electric. He knew what would bring him relief, what he wanted so desperately and what he hoped she wanted just as badly.

It appeared that she did, however as her kisses drifted even lower, at his waist where she unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down, not entirely off, but enough for what she wanted. Her mouth brushed against his hip bones and burning need radiated through Bucky from the points of contact.

"Melody," Bucky moaned again, fingers digging into her back and sliding towards her exposed breasts. He cupped each of them in his hands, her body arching into his touch in response. He sat up, pressing tighter against her and panting.

"We should move," he said, letting one arm slide away from her chest and around her torso. "Before we get any farther." Bucky realized all too well this room probably held a fair number of nightmares for Melody. "I don't want you feel...trapped."

Melody brushed a kiss across his lips. Slow, soft and filled with promise. "If I'm with you," she said. "Then I have nothing to fear."

Bucky felt his heart swell in his chest and kissed Melody again, briefly and rested his forehead against hers. "You're not on call are you?"

Melody laughed. "Not today," she reached into her pocket and grabbed her cell phone and pager. She clicked at a few of the buttons on each and then set them aside as well. Bucky wrapped his arms around her again, drawing her closer and laying back against the couch.

Bucky's world turned black as he shut his eyes and as his hands drifted lower across Melody's body to her jeans. He had a feeling this time they wouldn't be interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! And a happy New Year to all of you! :)


	36. Thirty-Six

The couch was a bit cramped with both of them laying on it, but truthfully Melody didn't mind in the least. It gave her an excuse to stay as close to James as she could. Her head was resting on his chest, his right arm curled around her, and their legs were tangled around each other still.

James's fingers began to trail up her spine and Melody giggled involuntarily. 

"I still can't believe your so ticklish," he told her, his rough voice slightly out of breath. The sound was one she'd heard before-but not in this context. Normally, he was out of breath when his nightmares tore him from sleep. But he wasn't sleeping and it wasn't nightmares that made him struggle to catch his breath.

It was her. Melody still couldn't understand that. But she believed it either way. James had told her, he'd shown her as they went. Every kiss, every touch, every word he'd whispered to her as they peeled off what remained of their clothing-he hadn't been lying to her. He'd meant it. 

Now, laying in his arms, exposed in a way that would have terrified her once just felt nice. 

"I wouldn't have believed it myself either," she muttered. Though she had no idea how many scars marked her back, Melody knew there were a lot. Part of her was surprised that, despite all the injuries she'd suffered, her nerves were still intact. She still had feeling across her back and she was glad for it-especially now as she felt James's cold fingers trace circles into her back. Missing out on that would have been disappointing indeed.

"James?"

She felt his head loll to the right, just enough to rest against her shoulder. "Did you smoke at any point in your life?"

One of his bright blue eyes opened at that. "How'd you know?"

"Smoking damages circulation," she said. "And that's why smokers always have cold hands and feet come to think of it." His feet were usually icy as well, a fact Melody was reminded of as he shifted closer and his cold toes brushed against her feet.

"Sorry," he said with a lazy grin. "We didn't know it was so dangerous back then."

Melody smiled. "I know, I didn't pay very good attention in history but I do know that."

"I suppose you were more interested in science?"

"More like interested in completing my requirements before I could apply to med school."

"I mean before that," James said, sitting upright so he could look at her better. "Before med school and college. When you were in high school and all that." 

"I never went to high school," she told him, "I just got my GED."

"What?" 

"Basically a document saying I met the academic standards for high school without actually doing high school. By the time I was fourteen I was done with it."

James's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "Wow. Well, I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I already know how smart you are."

Melody closed her eyes and sighed. "It had nothing to do with being smart. I just wanted to go to college and get as far away from Moria as humanly possible. College was the only way to do that."

James's arm tightened around her ever so slightly. "What happened to her? After it happened? Did she remarry or-?"

"No," Melody cut him off. "Her alcoholism just spiraled out of control. She drank long before she was a widow but she was high-functioning. That changed when John was gone. Couldn't hold a job, drank all day-I couldn't be around that. So I hit the books. Got done with high school at fourteen, applied to college, left the same year and got a full-ride scholarship thanks to gymnastics. Once med school rolled around I was finally able to get into my trust fund and I used that to pay for the rest of school."

"That's why your so young," he said. "I mean for an attending surgeon-your not even thirty and-wait," he caught himself. "How old are you anyways?"

"Twenty-nine," Melody laughed. "So not quiet thirty and yes, for an attending surgeon I am young. I've only been one for a year now."

"A year? James repeated. "But you said-?"

"I lied," she said, a sheepish grin coming to her face. "Sorry but I was desperate."

"Desperate?"

"No matter what I did you'd never let me help you," she told him, recalling the early days before they'd grown close. James had been bull-headed, aloof, rude and more than reluctant to accept any help. "I thought part of that might have been because you thought I was inexperienced or under-qualified, so I decided to find out. I gave myself four extra years on the job and a promotion-you still didn't change your mind about me. So at least I knew it wasn't because you thought I was bad at the job."

James leaned closer, his forehead pressing against hers. His arm slid off her back and towards her face, pulling her closer and their lips met. This kiss was a little different from the others that had passed between them a few minutes ago. This wasn't desperate and hungry. This was soft and sweet and he broke away before Melody could do anything to change that.

"It wasn't because I thought you were too young." He said, his voice soft and Melody brushed his hair from his face. "I just didn't think you could handle me. The trauma I went through-it's not what med school prepares you for. I didn't think you could do anything to help. I didn't think you could understand."

"You're not wrong," she said. "Med school didn't teach me anything that could help you."

"But I _was_ wrong," James said. "You _could_ understand, you _do_ understand and I'm sorry it took so much for me to realize that." 

"When did you realize that I knew what I was talking about?" She asked, letting her hand rise up to touch his face. The stubble was rough under her palm. "When you found out that John supposedly committed suicide in front of me?" 

James's mouth twitched as he fought back a smile. His metal hand curled around her own and she shivered as she felt his lips brush against her palm and then her fingers. "Yeah, I started getting a reality check then. But it didn't fully hit me how much you knew until that night when I saw your scar."

"Which one?" That came out before she could stop it. She saw James scowl and his hand tightened on hers. He pulled her hand away from his face and bent his head low, brushing a kiss across the start of the scar on her arm.

"Oh," her voice shot up in pitch feeling the soft press of his lips against the scar. "I guess that makes sense." Only now did she remember that her sleeve had been pulled up when she'd woken that night on the couch. "That was why you thought I'd done it, wasn't it? Because of where it was?"

James's metal finger brushed across the scar. "Sort of." He sighed and then looked up at her sheepishly. "Remember that day Sharon visited and you yelled yourself hoarse at her?"

"Because she put triggering material in front of you without any regard for your mental well-being? I remember." And she still wasn't over it either. Behaviors like that were the reasons blondes got a bad reputation. 

James's shy grin grew even wider. "Yeah that never happened."

"What now?"

"She did want to talk to me alone, that's why she told you to go shower. But it had nothing to do with Hydra. It was about you."

"Me?" She was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. "What did Sharon want to talk to you about me for? If it's about coffee I already told her-."

James laughed. "No, not about your higher than average coffee intake. She was angry at me for leaving you alone like I did. She told me that she was scared you cut yourself. She told me I needed to keep an eye on you, to make sure things didn't escalate."

Melody's heart swelled in her chest and she suddenly felt remorse for the lecture she'd given Sharon. _I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like her.Â_ "Well now I feel bad," she said. "She was just trying to look out for me and I yelled at her for it."

"She wanted it that way," James told her, forehead leaning into her shoulder as he followed the scar up her arm. "She didn't want you to know she was so worried-she was afraid you'd just try harder to hide."

Heat washedÂ  over Melody's body as James's kisses trailed farther, towards the end of the scar and one final peck against her neck. "You know," she said, breathless as she felt his hand human hand trace the scar between her breasts. "It's hard to have a conversation when I'm this distracted."

James laughed softly against her throat. "DidÂ  you want me to stop?"

"Oh God no!" She gasped as his hand slid lower, fingers dancing lightly on her right hip. "Don't stop."

James laughed again and leaned into her, "If you say so," he bent his head, kissing her again, slowly but the kiss was alight with promise of what was to come. It was a slow and steady fever that was burning them both.

Melody wrapped her arms around his neck, ready to pull him down on her, just to feel his body against hers again but before she could do that, she heard her cell phone buzz.

"Dammit," she growled breaking away and grabbing blindly for her phone. She glanced at the number and saw the familiar number of the hospital. 

"Doctor Frasier," she said, hitting the green answer button even as she laid down again as James began to kiss her collar bone.

"Mel you need to get in here." The voice of Doctor Richards, the on call orthopedic surgeon answered her. 

"What happened-oh!" James's mouth trailed over her right breast, sending an bolt of need through her body.

"Mel what's wrong?" she asked, voice colored with concern.

"Nothing," she lied, voice too breathless to be convicting. "What's going on?"

"A once in a lifetime surgery is what's happening. I'm putting together a team and you're my first pick."

"What's the surgery?"

"A bullet lodged in the spine-if anyone can remove it it's you. Avery wants to try but I'd rather offer it to you first. Avery's not bad, but he's not as good under stress as you are. We can't afford a freeze up in this and there's a reason you're Doctor Freezer."

Melody squeezed her eyes shut, already visualizing the scans of the spine nd the OR as she fought to help him.One wrong move, one moment of hesitation and the patient wouldn't be able to walk again. Miranda was right, Avery wasn't as good as her and if this wound was as bad as she feared, she worried Avery might be too far out of his league to be helpful. Why he'd chosen trauma was beyond Melody. He should have gone into general, there was more routine there.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes." 

Melody could almost hear Richards smile. "That's what I wanted to hear."

She hung up the phone and pressed her hand against James's chest. His breath was ragged but it couldn't disguise the disappointment in his voice. "I thought you weren't on call?"

"I'm not," she said. "But a case just came in, a bullet to the spine-the guy they have right now isn't cut out for it.Â  He's good but-."

"He's not you," James finished. He sighed but still smiled at her. "Go," he said. "Go and save his life."

"It's not his life I'll be saving," Melody told him as she grabbed her clothing from the floor. "It's just his legs. One wrong move and he's paralyzed."

"Then make sure he can walk again," James said even as Melody slid away from him and pulled on her bra and shirt.

"I will," she grabbed her pager and phone and slipped both into her pocket. "Bye James," she said, brushing a kiss across his lips. "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	37. Thirty-Seven

Bucky sat up at the kitchen island. A plate of eggs was in front of him but they'd gone stone cold by now. He couldn't eat, his mind was too busy to register something like hunger. He was still trying to process just what had happened before the hospital had called Melody away. Well, aside from his developing hatred of cell phones and pagers. Those damn things always seemed to go off at the worse possible times. 

_"I said let me up,"_ Melody's voice echoed back in his mind. _"I didn't say to let me go."_

Bucky had done exactly that, and held onto Melody, at first innocently but that had not lasted long. At first they'd only been laying next to each other, Bucky's arms around her and her body resting against his own, content and warm. But then they'd kissed and everything had changed. Their simple embrace had become desperate, as they clung to one another and words faded out because they were no longer needed to convey meaning. Everything they needed to say they could say with their bodies and they had.

 _"If I'm with you, then I have nothing to fear."Â_ Her voice echoed again, and Bucky felt the ghost of her lips against his. He'd never had some equate him with safety before, at least not after Hydra. And yet she did. Somehow, Melody felt safe with the Winter Solider. Though some might have called it unbelievable, Bucky believed her when she said that. She'd shown him the truth as she held his hand, a metal killing tool and guided it across her naked body. She'd trusted he wouldn't hurt her. The kiss she'd pressed against his shoulder where flesh and steel met. She hadn't been afraid. She'd embraced it, embraced _him_ wholeheartedly and without even a slight hesitation.Bucky knew the senors in the arm couldn't detect much, but in those moments, he thought maybe, irrational as it was that Melody might have been the exception to the rule.

Even afterwards, when the overwhelming lust had been sated, just laying next to her and holding her had been more intimate than sex. Feeling her skin against his, talking to one another even about something as unimportant as being ticklish or a former smoking habit had been incredibly relaxing and something that just made Bucky feel...well more human than he had in decades.

Â It had been perfect or as close as possible to perfect as anything could be and her parting words had cemented that fact. _"I love you".Â_ Bucky had never in his wildest dreams expected to hear her say that and he'd been so stunned by it that he hadn't been able to form a response before Melody had bolted out the door and towards the hospital. _Was she embarrassed?_ he wondered as he toyed with his fork. _Is that why she ran out so fast?Â_ Bucky disregarded that theory in the same moment, Melody always left quickly when the hospital called. She loved being a doctor, she loved being a surgeon-it was her redemption. Her way to atone for murder (which Bucky still felt was a service to the world than a crime). The emotionless switch she'd turned on, the tunnel vision to narrow her focus had once been used to kill upon her discovery of it, but now it was her tool to save lives. A way to stay calm when the situation was high-stress and hectic. 

 

He sighed and grabbed his plate and scraped the cold food into the garbage-he couldn't eat cold eggs. He then turned on the sink, ready to wash up the dishes but the slamming of a door stopped him short. Instantly, his hand slid towards the gun at his hip and cautiously called, "Melody? Is that you?"

"Yeah," she said appearing in the kitchen and setting her purse and keys on the island.

"You're back early." he commented. "I thought for sure you'd pick up a shift in the ER." Melody shrugged and Bucky frowned. "I don't say that as a bad thing, you love the ER and there's nothing wrong with that. I didn't mean-."

"I did start in the ER," she cut across him, an edge in her tone. "And I managed to get suspended."

"Suspended?" Bucky repeated, unable to believe it. "What? How did that?"

"I apparently lacked professionalism when dealing with a patient's mother," Melody spat, shoving herself away from the counter and stomping towards the fridge. "Because apparently her feelings were far more important than the truth."

"What happened?" Bucky asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It doesn't even matter," she said even as she slammed a jug of milk onto the counter as though it had personally wronged her. 

"I think it does," Bucky pressed. "You're angry." That was quiet a feat as far as Bucky was concerned, Melody was very-level headed most of the time. Getting her enraged was quiet an accomplishment. 

"Of course I'm angry!" she spat, turning to face Bucky, hair whipping around her face as she did. "Everyone kept walking on eggshells around her, saying she's the victim and not one of them gave a damn about the kid with a busted leg. She was stupid enough to get into that relationship in the first place thinking she could fix him, when in reality, someone like that _cannot_ be fixed. And then thinks a kid would improve it." She scoffed, the sound was bitter. Though she didn't say the words aloud, Bucky knew this patient was born to an abusive father same as Melody had been. No wonder she was so upset. 

"But all it did was make him suffer," she ranted on, gaze far away as she seethed. "Because of that family he was born into. The husband she's too much a coward to leave. She can't just be content with ruining her own life by staying, she's ruining her son's. And no one had the guts to tell her! She doesn't deserve to be a parent and she doesn't deserve pity-she's willing to let her child suffer because she's too scared to be on her ownÂ  She's supposed to be a mother and mother's are _supposed_ to _protect_ their children. They're supposed to _sacrifice_ for them and _chose_ them. But she won't do that, she never will and why she can't chose me I'll never understand I'm her _daughter_!"

She swung out then, knocking over the jug and it skidded across the island with the force of her strike. Melody stopped short as it fell off the counter and the color drained out of her face when her words hit her. She slumped forwards and her eyes welled with tears. 

"Melody," Bucky drew nearer, pulling her against him as she began to tremble. "I don't think you were yelling at your patient today."

"I know that," she whispered her voice brittle as she hung her head. 

"It's okay," Bucky said to her, reaching up to stroke her hair, unsure of what to say as he saw Melody go from the strong, brave and capable woman he knew to her be and back into the child who had been terrified, hurt and desperate for a real family. For home to be a place of safety instead of fear and pain.

She didn't look at him, but when she spoke again Bucky heard the tears in her words. "Why couldn't she chose me?" 

Bucky held her tighter, feeling his heart fracture in his chest and he knew then and there, even if he lived another seventy years that he'd never be able to forgive Moria Frasier for the pain she'd caused Melody. "I don't have an answer," he said finally, hearing his own voice shake. "But she's the one who missed out-not you."

"She's tried you know, " Melody said, her voice still brittle. "She tried to reach out to me. About seven years ago she cornered me outside of the hospital. Told me she was sober and wanted us to have a chance to be a family."

Bucky remembered then, that Melody had said it had been seven years since she had talked with her mother. He hadn't known the truth then and Melody had only said that they did not get along. Now he knew the situation was far more complicated than that. "What did you say to her?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"I asked if she needed to find a liver, kidney or bone marrow donor. She said no and I told her in no uncertain terms that unless one of those things were occurring that she was to stay out of my life." 

Bucky felt the temperature drop as she spoke and he realized the nickname "Doctor Freezer" might have applied to more than her cool head under pressure. Bucky could already hear the cold, flat tone of her voice as she made that declaration. "Do you hate her?"

"I wish I could," she whispered. "I wish I could hate her. I want to."

"But?"

"For all my trying, I just can't."Â  She slumped against him, as though exhausted after a forty-eight hour shift. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're not a hateful person."

"I hate John."

Bucky back-tracked a little. "It's different," he said, "John was the one you were afraid of, you weren't scared of Moria. You weren't scared she'd hurt you like he did. I know she still did hurt you," he pressed a kiss to her cheek and tasted salt. "But it was a different kind of wound-the ones that don't bleed."

"The ones that don't bleed," she agreed weakly. "That's exactly what she left me with."

"I wish there was something I could do," he said. "Some medicine to heal wounds like that."

"There is one though."

That stopped Bucky short. "Really?"

"Yeah," Melody said, sliding her hand across his arm and squeezing his hand. "Love helps. I don't really know what it is, but I think it feels like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	38. Thirty-Eight

"What?" Bucky asked, tightening his hold on Melody as he spoke.

"I didn't grow up with many loving relationships," her words were soft. "So I don't have much to compare to, but I think love is supposed to feel like this." Bucky felt her hand grasp his arm.

"What does this feel like?" he whispered as he ran his metal hand up her left arm. "Tell me."

Melody was quiet for several seconds and then she sighed deeply and spoke again. "It's like being able to breathe."

Bucky pulled away, keeping a lose grip on her waist so he could look at her face. Her features were still partly hidden by her glossy hair. "I don't understand." He reached up and brushed away her hair to reveal her face, her mouth was drawn into a sort of half-smile and her eyes were closed.

"I've never been able to breathe James," she said, opening her eyes and glancing at him. "I've always had to be careful. I've always had to watch every move I make and everything I do and I've had to do that every moment of my life. It's what kept me alive. And after...what happened, I never lost it because that kept me out of jail."

Bucky grimaced and his stomach twisted. He had no doubt that she was right. Living with John had probably been like living in a minefield. The slightest misstep and all hell broke lose. And then his death, her last desperate bid for freedom, carrying a secret like that had to be a heavy burden indeed.

"But I don't need to be so careful now because with you, I have nothing to hide. I'm safe with you." She leaned into him then, shut her eyes and sighed. "I can _finally_ breathe." She beamed then and leaned into him. "And I can't thank you enough for it."

"You don't need to thank me," Bucky whispered, pressing his face into her sweet-smelling hair. The scent was something he could easily get drunk on if he let himself do it. "It's nothing."

"Coming from someone who went without it, love is everything. Real love anyways, not that shit Moria tried to pass off as love."

A hard note crept into her voice at that. "She said she loved you?"

"Every time John got done with me," she said and Bucky felt a tremor run up and down her body. "She said that while she poured peroxide down my back and told me not to scream. Said that John had a headache." The shaking quickened and she flung her arms around Bucky's torso, holding tight to him as though he was an anchor that was holding her in the present. 

She cut off, unable to say more and Bucky didn't say much either, just murmuring words of comfort in both English and Russian and unsure of what else he could do. Traumatic memories, he knew were impossible to keep at bay forever and he knew how real they felt. Sometimes there was nothing to be done except wait for them to pass, hard as that was to do.

These memories for Melody, old as they were still caused her pain and this house was full of them. Every corner she looked around, every room she entered was full of screams of the child she used to be and the memory of the broken family she'd been born into. The father who'd been her monster and the mother who'd failed her.

 _She shouldn't be here,_ Bucky thought as he stroked her hair. _It's like sending me back to an old Hyrda base._ Bucky shuddered at the thought. At all the memories that would lurk around every corner, the cryo machines, the handlers that ordered him to kill and every moment in between...The idea of being surrounded by the memories, going back to the place it all happened made him feel sick.

And yet Melody was here. In that old house where her torment had occurred for over a decade, surrounded by every ghost and terrible memory she had and it was because Bucky was there and needed her in ways he'd never needed anyone in his life.

He needed her to be there when he slept, to pull him out of the nightmares of his past and back to the present with her. He needed to hear her sing when sleep was too distant a friend. He needed to hold her, at night when he slept and even during the day, just to be sure she was really there, really needed his touch the way he needed hers. Bucky needed to hear animated tales of work and the surgeries she performed that day and watch as her eyes lit up as she explained what each procedure entailed and how she had done it. 

Bucky needed those things. But what Melody needed was to get the hell out of that house.

But he didn't want her to leave either...

 _There has to be a compromise somewhere,_ Bucky thought even as Melody began to relax. And after a moment of thought it hit him, there was more to this property than just the house. There was a woods all around it too.

"Are you alive?" he whispered and he heard Melody chuckle at his use of her usual night-time phrase. 

"I'm okay now," she said, fingers curling into his shirt. "Thank you-for staying."

"I can say that to you," he said and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "For being here all the time." He grinned then, feeling a bit reckless. "Get some warm clothes on okay? We're getting out of here."

Melody blinked several times and drew away from him. "James, we can't-."

"I didn't say we were going into the city," he said, tracing the shape of her cheekbone with his fingertips. "Just trust me-go put on some warm clothes and meet me outside." Melody gave him another skeptical look and Bucky shook his head. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes but-."

"Then do what I say, please. Just trust me on this. We need to get out of here for a while."

Melody bit her lip, eyes darting around the room, no doubt seeing the shadows of her past all around her. Finally, she caved in and looked back at Bucky. "Fine, but if I think, even for a moment that you're in danger I will drag you back here-got it?"

"Yes Doctor Freezer," Bucky teased. "Now go. Get changed."

Melody walked past him, a small smile on her face and eyes shining as though she was fighting back a laugh. As soon as she was gone up the stairs and he heard the click of their bedroom door shutting, Bucky went upstairs as well and dug around in the room had that been his once. He grabbed a few of the blankets off the bed, the ones that wasn't covered in old, blackened blood. He wasn't going to bring one of Melody's ghosts out with them when they went camping.

 _I hope it doesn't rain,_ he thought as he draped the thick quilts over his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	39. Thirty-Nine

"Will you please tell me what we're doing?" Melody asked as she zipped up her black sweatshirt and let her gloved hands fall in the pockets. The late summer air was crisp and cool, hinting at the fall that was soon coming to New York.

James shook his head and reached out to her with his right hand. "No, it's a surprise, now come on."

Melody rolled her eyes but grabbed his hand in the same moment. "Fine," she said, "I'll be patient, for now at least." Patience was something she was quiet good at, given how some surgical procedures took hours and hours to perform properly. But secrets and surprises were a different matter. Melody quiet hated being left in the dark.

 "Do I get a hint?" she pleaded as James led her towards the trail that marked entry into the woods that surrounded the house. "Are we going on a walk?"

"For a while," he admitted, blue eyes flashing to her face for a fraction of a second. The moment was brief, but it still made her heart flutter in her chest like the beating of a bird's wings. She looked away from James's face, recalling how unwelcome that fluttering had been once.

Melody smiled to herself as they walked under the orange and brown leaves of the woods. She, Doctor Freezer, known for keeping her cool and maintain professional stances at all times had done the most unprofessional thing any doctor could ever do. She'd fallen in love with her patient.

"Something funny?" James's rough voice cut through her musings as he led her off the worn trail to another, lesser tread path. Even Melody, who had wandered these woods for most of her childhood, didn't recognize it.

"Just thinking," she said as she ducked underneath a maple branch.

"What about?"

"Us, me," she shook her head, barely holding back the laughter that was bubbling in her chest.

"What's so funny about that?"

"You're my patient," she said, realizing the word wasn't accurate anymore. Melody never held the hands of her patients, slept on their chests as they watched movies and she certainly never let any of them see her naked. "Or you were. And now..." she used her free hand to hide her face which was burning. "You're not."

"And that's funny?" James said, his voice questioning as he tried to work through the problem. "How so? The irony of a doctor and an assassin?"

"No," Melody said quickly. They'd both killed people, or in her case, just one person but still. They both had bloody hands. "Not that. It's the unprofessionalism of it, a doctor falling in love with their patient."

"Aren't you supposed to care about your patients?" James asked, a soft smile coming to his face. There was no sorrow in it, no tiredness or anything of that nature. Just compassion. Melody loved that smile. She remembered the first time she saw that, the day she'd faked her breakdown, going on about a mugging victim she'd failed to save.

That had been weighing on her then, but it hadn't been as terrible as the screams of her childhood self and the feeling of blood pouring down her back as her father tore her apart. James hadn't known that though, as far as he was aware, Melody was just sympathizing with the little boy in the waiting room. The one who had a dead father, same as her.

He'd given her that smile then, telling her that he was sorry for what she'd lost. Promising to clean up the mess of coffee that was on the floor so she could rest.

"We are supposed to care," Melody allowed, watching as a flock of birds flew in a V formation overhead. "But we have to be distant too. Learn to not get too close so we can do our job effectively." Her mind flashed to Tucker Jones, a first year resident. "I'm trying to teach one of my residents that. He's got a lot of promise with my specialty, but  if he can't learn distance he won't make it in the field."

"You're trying to train another trauma surgeon?"

"Yeah but he doesn't know it yet. He needs to get an overview of all the specialties before he decides on one, but I  think he'll do best in mine."

"But you just said he needs to learn distance. Isn't that the most important skill to have in your specialty?" James asked and Melody shook her head.

"Distance is important in all specialties, that's so we don't lose our minds with how tough it can be to lose patients. But aside from that, in trauma, the most important thing to do is to be able to think and act at the same time. Do one thing and think ten steps ahead. Trauma, it's not like other specialties, there isn't always a routine procedure you can follow like if you're doing an appendectomy or an amputation. You get a victim of a car crash with low blood pressure they'll be admitted for surgery without a doubt, but you don't always have the  luxury of a pre-set plan."

"Sounds stressful."

"It is," Melody agreed.

"But you love it."

"Yep."

James turned left, pulling her gently along, into another unfamiliar part of the woods. "So, why trauma? Out of everything you could have done?"

"I'm really good at not getting overwhelmed," Melody said as she watched James's face, for that telltale flickering shadow that told her he was angry or upset. "And it's handy when you have a bunch of crash victims in need of surgery." She sighed and held a bit tighter to his hand, his fingers still ice cold in hers. "Are you going to tell me where we're going? You're hands are freezing."

"They're always cold," he retorted, rolling his eyes, uncaring. "I'll be fine." Melody glared at him and James scoffed. "We're almost there, stop worrying."

He brushed aside a large branch, his metal arm gleaming in the setting sun and Melody followed, uncertainty and excitement flowing through her. She stepped carefully over a large rock and then James moved aside to see where they were.

Melody realized where they were instantly and felt stupid for missing it. It was a clearing she'd stumbled upon about five years ago but it did look very different. Namely that is was no longer empty.  A crude fire pit was dug in the middle of it and not far from that her truck was parked, the tailgate open and covered in blankets.

"Hope you like camping," James whispered to her in his gravely voice.

"Never been," Melody muttered, barely thinking about what she was saying. She was still marveling at the sight before her. "When did you find time to do all this?"

"I hid your shoes," he replied, laughing softly. "So you'd wouldn't notice I was gone so long."

"Clever," Melody said, surprised but now thankful. She knew she'd left her sneakers in the entryway. "Juvenile but clever."

"It worked didn't it?" He asked, letting his hand fall from hers only to sling his arm around her shoulders. Melody leaned into him, feeling warmth radiate off him. She hadn't realized how chilly it was. _And it's only going to get colder,_ she realized as she wanted the sun fall farther behind the horizon.

Melody huddled closer to him and said, "Do you have any idea how to start a fire?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And shoutout to a user by the name of Misty who left on a comment on this work recently! Thank you Misty! :)


	40. Forty

"I'm calling a retreat," Melody declared and Bucky looked up from the small pile of kindling they had been trying to lit for the last hour.

"What do you mean...?" he began, but his question was answered for him as Melody clambered into the back of the tailgate and huddled under one of the many blankets Bucky had piled into it.

He stood up, knees cracking as they unbent from the crouch they'd been in for so long. "Are you sure about that? Won't we get cold without a fire?"

Bucky thought she might have shrugged under the blankets, but he wasn't sure. He considered the matter a moment and then tossed the unlit bundle of wood into the pit, uncaring. If they got that cold they could just return to the house. It was still summer after all, so he assumed the night couldn't get that bad.

With those thoughts in mind, he strode over to the truck bed and climbed into the back. He settled under the heavy covers as well and Melody wasted no time snuggling up to him. Bucky laughed and let his right arm fall around her, holding her closer.

"For someone they called the Winter Solider," she remarked, resting her head on his chest. "You're very warm."

"I can say the same about you Doctor Freezer." Bucky teased and he was rewarded with her laugh. A smile lit up on her face, her green eyes flickering with warmth and Bucky was unable to look away as she giggled.

"You're staring at me," Melody said, her laughter fading away though the effects of it still lingered on her heart-shaped face.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but then I'd be lying." He brushed a strand of her wavy blonde hair from her face.

Melody's cheeks turned pink and her gaze slid away from Bucky. "I can't really point fingers. I'm not innocent myself."

That was news to him. "Really?" he asked. "I've never caught you looking at me."

"That would be because you're usually sleeping."

"What?"

"I like watching you sleep," she admitted, clearly blushing as her skin had gone from pink to dark red. "When you're not dreaming at least, you look peaceful. It's calming for me to see that." Her skin turned even darker red. "And...well you're very nice to look at."

Now it was Bucky's turn to laugh. "No need to be so embarrassed, it's not like you're admitting you spied on me while I was in the shower." He glanced sidelong at Melody, "You didn't do that did you?" Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it would have bothered him too much if she had. The knowledge that she viewed him in that sort of light, even before Bucky admitted what he felt for her, was quiet an appealing thought.

Melody shook her head slightly. "No, I didn't spy on you while you showered. But I did watch you sleep-just that night when you asked me to sing to you at first. You feel asleep and you had an arm over me and I didn't want to risk waking you up. So I stayed, but I was scared too. I'd been having nightmares before then," her voice got a bit smaller as she said that. "And to calm down, I just watched you. I thought about how you'd finally let me help you-and it helped me calm down."

Looking back on those events now, her exhaustion and claim that she had never been woken up by his screams all made sense. He felt stupid now, for missing those obvious signs that her life hadn't been as perfect as she claimed.

Melody continued, unaware of the thoughts swirling around in his head. "And when that kept happening, you falling asleep too near me for me to risk moving, I just watched you until I felt calm enough to shut my eyes." She laughed, the sound a bit embarrassed. "After a while it wasn't just about taking care of you."

"What else was it about then?" Bucky prompted, smirking as she blushed again.

"I liked having you next to me," she said as she looked away from him and up at the darkening sky. "It made me feel safe."

Bucky looked up at the sky too, his face feeling very warm. "You understand how messed up that is right?" he asked. Melody feeling safe with him was something that filled him with a sense of pride, but he knew how strange that was. He was the Winter Solider. He wasn't someone who was a protector, he was a killer.

Melody sat up, looking down at him and frowning. "How's that messed up?"

"Winter Solider," he said flatly, pointing to himself. "I'm not known for safety or security."

Melody brushed some stray hair from his face. Her fingertips were warm and soft. "Whoever says that doesn't know you like I do."

Her fingers trailed down his face, tracing the angle of his cheekbone. Bucky shut his eyes, warmth buzzing through him from the contact, but it was cut-short as memories of the base and all those missions flooded back to his mind.

"James?"

"You don't know everything I've done," he said, voice choked. "I've done horrible things."

"Horrible things others made you do," Melody countered,  her eyes glinting sharply.

He knew that argument was coming and she was right, but it still didn't change one crucial fact. "I still did them-and I still have all the skills that it takes to do those things again."

"But you won't."

"Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight car." Bucky whispered, though the words where English, not Russian, they still made him wince as he recalled the metal compressors and their tight hold around his skull as they rewired his mind.

"What?"

"When you have ten minutes free," Bucky said, ignoring her question. "Look up those words in Russian. Memorize them."

"James you aren't making sense," Melody's tone was colored with worry but he ignored that as well. Grabbing her hand from his face, Bucky opened his eyes and looked directly at her.

"Look up those words in Russian, memorize them. Promise me you will."

Her eyebrows drew together, clearly confused. "I promise I will, but why?"

"Because I need you to recognize them," he said, feeling his throat go thick. "Because if someone ever says those around me, do not stay put. _Run_. Run and _do not_ look back. Whatever you do."

"James-."

"Promise me you'll run."

"James-."

" _Promise,_ " Bucky insisted, seeing his nightmares come back to his mind. Those words had been the trigger to get him to kill. The words that made him forget everything and turn into a weapon. He had no idea if that brainwashing hardware was still in his mind now that he' d gotten his memories back, but he wasn't going to take the risk of Melody not being able to recognize it.

Hydra had made him forget everything. They'd taken his home, his family, his own name and his best friend from his memories. They'd made him kill innocent people. They'd tried to make him kill Steve, his best friend. They'd taken so much from him, but he would not let them take Melody too.

The color had drained from Melody's face. She was ghostly white and her eyes were brimming with tears. "James," she said, voice thick. "What's wrong?"

"Those words, that's how they did it." He said, taking a shaky breath. "When they'd take me out of cyro, they'd put me into this machine. These metal clamps would go around my head," he made an attempt to illustrate that with his hands and Melody's face grew even paler. "And they'd start the process, make me forget who I was. After that, they'd say those words and that finalized it. I'd do anything they ordered me to do after that and I'd do it without question."

"James..." Melody tried to speak, but her voice trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. Bucky took his chance.

"That's how they made me kill Martha and Howard Stark. I knew Howard, not well, but I respected how intelligent he was. I killed them, I made it look like a car crash." The words tasted bitter. "They told me to kill Steve, and he was- _is_ my best friend. I almost did it. I woke up and it wasn't a moment too soon." He let go of her hand and brushed away the tears that were streaming down her face. "Those words can make me do _anything_ Melody-and I'll be damned if they're ever used to hurt you. Don't waste time if you hear those words, don't try to save me-just run."

She didn't answer, her face was still deathly white and for once, he couldn't read her expression. Perhaps what he was saying was just hard to wrap the mind around. Brainwashing wasn't exactly an everyday topic. But even so, he couldn't just let it drop.  He needed her to promise him that she'd run. That she'd save herself and forget everything else. Bucky sat up, freeing his arms from the covers and wrapping them around her.

"Melody," he said, hearing his voice break and his vision began to blur. "I've already had nightmares about you being the mission. Please, _please_ don't make them real."

"I promise," she whispered and he felt her arms wind around him, holding him just as hard as he held onto her.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her cheek which tasted sharply of salt.  "Don't cry, please." Mentally, Bucky cursed himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like this. This was supposed to be a night Melody could relax for once. A night without ghosts. "I'm sorry,  I wanted to give you a stress-free night for once and I blew it. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize-I'm not stressed."

"You were crying," Bucky said, letting his fingers trail up her back. "I made you cry."

"Yeah," she drew away and Bucky caught sight of her face again. That same strange expression was still there. Something about it was familiar, but Bucky couldn't be sure why.

"I'm sorry," he said again, still pondering her expression. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

The tear tracks on her face said otherwise and Bucky was about to point it out when he realized where he'd seen that expression. He'd seen it the night they'd kissed for the first time. "Melody, what are you thinking right now?"

"That you finally talked about what happened to you."

"Yeah, you sort of needed to know that."

Melody shook her head, smiling. "I've been waiting for that since the moment you walked through my door." She embraced him again, her thin arms locking around his neck. "I've been waiting for you to trust me."

Bucky let his arms wrap around her again. "Of course I trust you."

He laid back against the tailgate, Melody still close by and they said nothing more, but right now they didn't need to. Just being there was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	41. Forty-One

Bucky awoke the next morning to bright sunshine and birds chirping overhead. He opened his eyes, squinting against the sun, confused as to where he was. The events of the previous day came back to him and he remembered he and Melody had taken a bit of a vacation from the house.

The morning air was cool against his face, but he wasn't cold. The combination of the heavy blankets piled in the truck bed and Melody's warm body curled up next to him prevented that. He titled his head, curious as to whether or not she was awake.

She wasn't. Melody was still fast asleep, her golden hair a frizzy mess about her face and her breathing deep and steady. _I won't wake her yet,_ Bucky decided, smiling at her.

He moved a little closer, letting his arm fall lazily around her waist and shut his eyes. He didn't intend to fall back asleep, he wasn't tired enough for that all he wanted to do was rest his eyes for a bit.

But that changed however, when that realization hit home. Bucky's eyes snapped open, heart beating faster in his chest with disbelief. He _wasn't_ tired. He'd slept well last night. He hadn't had any nightmares.

A gleeful laugh escaped him before he could stop it and Melody stirred and sat up, eyes bleary as she fought her way out of sleep.

"What's so funny?" she yawned, pushing back her messy hair.

"Nothing," Bucky said, getting his joy under control. "Go back to sleep."

"Too late, I'm awake now." To prove her point, she slide  closer to him which made Bucky laugh. Melody was not a restless sleeper and kept to the same position throughout the night.

"Sorry," he apologized,  as she rested her head on his chest. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," she said, her voice dismissive. "So what was so funny?"

"The birds," Bucky lied, not yet willing to tell her that he hadn't dreamed. He wanted to see how long it would take for her to figure it out on her own. "They're just a bit silly."

Melody giggled at this. "They are."

Just then, a bluebird flitted overhead, hopping from branch to branch and Melody's laughter increased tenfold. Once it would have been a source of confusion for Bucky, but now he knew what was so funny.

"Doctor Bluebird?" he asked and Melody let out another burst of laughter in response. "You know, he really could've picked something better. All the choices he had and he decides on bluebird-sort of pathetic."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean nothing about you matches up with that. You don't have blue eyes for one thing and I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything blue either, that is if I don't count jeans-and I don't."

"My scrubs are blue."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "But all doctors wear blue scrubs don't they? It's the uniform. That doesn't count." A uniform was something impersonal, a requirement in a job, not something unique to any one person.

"Well since your an expert ornithologist what would you have called me?"

Bucky grinned and thought a moment. It didn't take long for an answer to come to him. "Nightingale."

"Nightingale?" Melody repeated.

"Nightingale's are songbirds," Bucky said, holding her tighter. He leaned closer, letting his voice drop to a whisper. "They sing beautifully-just like you. You're a nightingale, my nightingale." He felt a smile pull at his mouth and leaned closer, letting his lips graze her neck. He felt her pulse quicken at the gesture and laughed softly. "Easy Nightingale," he whispered and he heard Melody laugh. "I'll behave."

Bucky let his hands trail up her side which admittedly didn't follow his promise but he didn't really care either. He liked hearing the little noises she made when he did things like that. His hands found the hem of her shirt and he toyed with it a moment, tracing the small amount of skin just beneath it and he felt Melody tremble as he did.

"What happened to behaving?" she asked as his hands continued their explorations, edging his hands farther up with each passing second. Her skin was smooth under his human hand.

"I am behaving, sort of." He added the last bit as an afterthought as he neared her face again, kissing her jawline. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" her reply was fast and instant which made Bucky grin. _She wants me,_ he thought as he slid his hand farther up her side. His fingers brushed a bumpy, puckered bit of skin-a scar. He let his fingers trace the shape for a moment and then continued what he'd been doing.

There was a whirr of a zipper being undone and Bucky grabbed her wrist, effectively stopping her actions.

"What?" she asked, voice a bit ragged.

Bucky let his fingers close over the zipper of her sweatshirt and began pulling it slowly down. "That's my job," he said, pushing the open sweater over her shoulder. Melody, realizing what he was doing, shifted and shrugged it off, eager to help with the process.

Bucky heard a dull sound as it fluttered off the truck bed and onto the forest floor. It was probably going to be full of dirt if they just left it there, but he was a bit too preoccupied to care. Melody had moved again, shifting so that she was no longer curled against his side, but hovering over him, Bucky didn't have a chance to process the change before Melody leaned in closer, her mouth against his, the gesture slow, but eager at the same time.

He grinned against her kiss and broke away as he quickly removed her shirt. Even with that simple gesture he felt the rugged texture of the scars that marred her back and stomach. He traced over the two parallel ones across her stomach 

"James?" Melody's voice was small when she said his name.

"Mhm?" Bucky was unable to form anythign more coherit. A large portion of his mind was focused on the feeling of her body against his.

"Why didn't you freak out? When you saw me the first time?" Her voice was even softer, eyes downcast and unable to look at him. That wasn't going to do at all.

Bucky let his metal arm curl around her waist, pulling her closer to him so he could kiss her again. His lips grazed her forehead and he held her tight against him, voice rough when he spoke. "I was too angry to freak out. You'd told me what...what he did to you," he fumbled over that sentence a bit, white hot rage spiking his blood. Not for the first time, he thanked his rare lucky stars that John Frasier was dead and rotting. "But what I'd imagined hadn't come close to what it was actually like."

"Angry?"

"Yes," Bucky whispered as he bent his head and brushed another kiss across Melody's lips before moving to her jaw and throat. "I was angry-but it explained a lot." _Like why you don't believe me when I tell you that you're beautiful._ He thought as he traveled farther down her neck, to her collar bone where another scar was carved into her skin. Her lack of belief didn't matter to him though, he'd change her mind, prove to her that he was genuine. He just needed time.

"James," her fingers curled sharply into his arm, her voice breathless as he continued to kiss her.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked again and Melody answered him by letting her hand slide between them and unzipping his jeans.

He smirked at her answer and was about to return the favor when something struck him. "You're not on call are you?"

Melody shook her head. "Suspended remember?"

"Oh right," he blushed feeling rather stupid for forgetting that.

"Something tells me that I'm actually going to enjoy my time off," she teased, twining the fingers of her right hand  in his hair and sliding her left hand over his collar to the zipper on his old coat.

 _Something tells me I will too,_ Bucky thought as he shrugged out of the jacket and let his mind drift away. Away from the nightmares he'd managed to escape for once, away from the house he'd taken Melody from, away from the brutal facts of the world. The ones that state he was the Winter Solider and a fugitive.

Because right then, none of it mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double updated today! Thanks for reading and as well as all the new kudos left on the work and the new comment! I'm so glad you guys here on Archive are enjoying the fic! Thanks for reading! :)


	42. Forty-Two

If it had been any other point in her life, a suspension from her job would've left Melody completely miserable. West Memorial Hospital had been her first real home. A place where she fit in, or at least came as close as possible to fitting in when she carried as many secrets as she did. And being apart from it would have let her feeling gutted.

But now, even though she was suspended from her job (the length of time she did not yet know) she was not feeling the least bit sorrowful or dejected-her heart was too full for such feelings. Rather than miss her job, she relished in the one positive aspect that came with being away from it-she got to be with James.

From the moment she'd gotten home, after her tidal wave of anger and pain had subsided, she'd realized that her unpaid suspension wasn't going to be that bad. As she'd realized his plan, to take her away from her former prison, whatever negative thoughts she'd had about her suspension had been snuffed out and replaced with a much happier, warmer feeling.

Love. Or at least she was pretty sure that's what the feeling was. Melody hadn't been lying when she'd told James that she wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to feel like. But she thought it was like this, she hoped it was like this. She'd never felt anything so wonderful in her life. The warmth that glowed inside her when she was just near him and they were talking. How her favorite place to sleep was no longer her bed as it had been for thirty years, but James's arms. The fact that even though she was back at her parent's house, she was able to smile and do so quite easily. If it had been six months ago, Melody would've thought such a thing was impossible.

 _And yet it's not,_ she thought to herself, rolling over onto her side to look at James. Early as the hour was, three in the morning according to the clock at her beside, he was fast asleep and snoring, his strong features the picture of ease. Melody smiled to herself and carefully reached out, brushing some of his hair away to get a better look at his face. Over the last two nights, he had not dreamed. A fact which at first, had gone unnoticed by Melody and James, laughing at pointed it out to her as they'd climbed into the cab of the truck, hurriedly pulling on their clothes as rain poured overhead.

Now, however, Melody had made it more a point to notice the changes in his sleeping patterns and recently, they'd been quite different. No more restless tossing and turning, grumbling incoherently and bolting upright, covered in cold sweat and screaming which had often been his pattern for the last five months.

The change was nice and afforded her more chances to watch him until she herself drifted off. Frankly though, she was having a harder time of it as of late. Her body was so used to working forty-eight hours shifts and sneaking sleep during that time, that falling asleep on a more normal timetable was an adjustment her internal clock had not yet made-which was why she was wide awake now.

She sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of James's muscular chest-a view which was incredibly pleasing on a personal level as well as a scientific one, carefully, she let her fingers graze lightly over his chest, naming off the muscles in her mind.

 _Pectoralis major, pectoralis minor, deltoid,_   _bicep-!_

Her anatomy review was cut short as James stirred and Melody drew back her hand fast, as though she'd been burned. He blinked several times and then his intense blue eyes focused on her.

"Are you alive?" The words tumbled off her lips before Melody had a chance to even think about them. Not all nightmares were ones that left someone screaming-she knew that all too well. Sometimes you were able to escape them before it reached that point and just had to recollect yourself as you tried to figure out what happened. She'd been there herself many times.

James gave her a tired smile, his teeth stark white against the dark stubble on his face. "I wasn't dreaming."

Melody released the breath she hadn't known she was holding and settled back onto her side, the mattress sinking under her weight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

James gave her another sleep grin and rolled over, his metal arm sliding around her side as he cuddle into her. "It's fine," he said and Melody felt a tingling warmth spread across her skin as she let herself relax into his hold. She felt James's lips brush her cheek and his face pressed into her hair. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher than usual. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Melody shook her head. "No, I didn't, just can't sleep."

"It's three A.M."

"I'm awake and running an emergency room at this time usually," she reminded him and James's laughed softly.

"That's true," his hands trailed over her hip and then to the edge of her thigh tracing meaningless patterns as he did. Even through the legs of her pajamas, she still felt goosebumps rise on her skin at his touch. _Will I ever grow out of that?_ Melody wondered as she shivered, feeling his fingers travel back over her towards her back. Though the scars were hidden now, he knew as well as she did what was there.

And he still wanted to touch her.

Another tingling sensation ran through Melody as she thought about that, which was doubled as she felt James's fingers continue gently up her back. She arched into the touch even as it faded out and she guessed he must have been somewhere near her upper back now. The only spot on her back where she had no feeling. A small space, she assumed as the rest of her nerves in her back functioned as they should.

"Nightingale," James whispered, voice husky as he let his fingers hook on the collar of her shirt and sliding it off her scarred shoulder.

Melody giggled at the pet name. Already she knew, no matter what, if she ever saw a nightingale, or even just heard the word for whatever reason, she'd always think of him. Her laughter soon turned to a gasp as she felt James kiss her shoulder, mouth grazing the scar before he backtracked towards her neck.

 A slow-burning pleasure curled through Melody, licking at her like tongues of fire, but she squirmed away from James. "Not right now," she cautioned, laying a hand against James's hard chest. "Sharon is coming over today, I don't want to risk getting a bruises that would be...hard to explain." She felt a blush come to her face as she said that. Already, from the previous time they'd made love Melody had acquired a few bruises. Just in places that were far easier to conceal such as her shoulders and back.

Her neck however, would be a different story and she didn't want Sharon to worry. Sharon, Melody knew, would assume that she was hiding bruises from an attack that had come from James. She would never tell him that however, not unless he asked her directly. She knew the knowledge would only cause him pain.

Her agent friend had voiced the concern many times over when she met Melody in the city or when they spoke on the phone. Each time Melody had tried to alleviate her concerns, but she knew by the hesitant in her friend's gaze that she had only been partly convinced.

James made a grumbling sort of noise and snuggled closer. "I'll behave."

"Promise?" Melody teased, letting her hands settle between their bodies. They were cold, but thankfully, between the two of them the space on the mattress had grown quite warm.

"I promise," he assured her and Melody sighed as she felt his lips brush the top of her head.

"You should try and sleep," she said, her voice slightly higher than normal. "Do you want me to sing to you?"

"Mhm."

Melody took a deep breath and began to sing. " _Step one you say sit down he walks/you say sit down it's just a talk...._ " The song was by the Fray, a band whom Miranda Richards, the orthopedic surgeon with whom she got along with quiet well swore by. Melody had actually looked them up and found that she'd liked a few of her songs. "How to Save A Life" had been her favorite among them. She wasn't sure why exactly, but either way, she did enjoy singing the chorus.

And she wasn't halfway done with the song before James's snoring filled her ears again. She cut off mid-song and shut her eyes, listening to him as her own form of a lullaby. This time, she felt tired enough to sleep and she was twice as comfortable now. The soft mattress helped, but the feeling of James's holding her was the key. She yawned once and the waking world drifted out of focus as sleep overcame her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	43. Forty-Three

Bucky was torn from his third consecutive night of restful sleep by the thrill, piercing sound of a smoke alarm. Startled, he bolted upright in bed, glancing to his side to alert Melody who was no longer with him.

He hurried towards the door throwing it open and instantly smelled something burning. With practiced ease, he hurried downstairs, heart racing as  a thousand horrible possible situations rolled through his mind. A grenade, thrown through the window, intended for him by some unknown party. A gas or electric fire blazing through the house, perhaps it was contained for now, but that didn't mean it would last, and Melody was nowhere to be found...

When he got downstairs however , none of them were realized and his panic vanished instantly.

Melody was in the kitchen, waving a dishtowel over a smoldering, burned object on the stove. She saw him and looked away from it, eyes watering. "Sorry!" she coughed, waving at the smoking food again.

"What the hell happened here?" Bucky asked, eyes burning from the smoke.

"I was trying to make breakfast," Melody admitted as the smoke died down and her face turned brilliantly red.

"Well," Bucky said, grabbing the pan with his metal hand and tossing it into the sink. "It's _defiantly_ done."

If possible, Melody's face turned an even darker shade of red. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm just...really bad at cooking."

"I see that," Bucky said. Now that the smoke had cleared, he noticed the counter was messy as well, a large mixing bowl was resting there and the backsplash was covered in some sort of batter. And now that he was looking properly, he also noticed she had a smear of flour across her forehead. Trying not to laugh, he asked, "What were you trying to make exactly?"

Melody buried her face in the dishtowel so her voice was too muffled for Bucky to hear what she said.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that." Bucky put one hand over his mouth, but it was becoming even harder to stop the laughter that was bubbling up inside his chest. He'd never seen Melody so flustered before-and he'd managed to get her flustered on several occasions before this, so that was saying something.

She pulled her embraced face out of the dishtowel and stared at the floor. "I was trying to cook pancakes."

Any attempt at holding back laughter was smashed with that admission and he doubled over, shaking with laughter.

"It's not funny!" Melody snapped but Bucky couldn't answer, hell, he could barely breathe as it was.

"What's not funny?" Sharon's voice added to the room and Bucky dimly recalled Melody telling him she was coming to the house today. He should have tried to stand up straight and say hello like a normal person, but he couldn't stop laughing. It was all too comical, or at least he thought it was. Melody's disastrous attempt to cook something as simple as pancakes and her obvious embarrassment over her failure was just, well, funny. There really wasn't another word for it.

"What the hell happened to him?" Sharon Carter came into view, wearing a pair of old jeans and a button down blouse and red scarf. "Is he in shock?"

Bucky tried to answer but was still unable to speak past his laughter. And so, he just pointed to the sink where the burned pancakes were cooling, ribs aching as he did so.

Sharon didn't move from her spot, but she was glaring at Melody. "You tried to use the stove again didn't you?"

"Oh let it go!" Melody exclaimed, face turning back to brilliant red. "That was over seven years ago and it was an accident!"

"Aunt Peggy still get's cards from the fire department!"

"What?" Bucky burst out, staring at Melody. "What did you do?"

"She lit the oven on fire because she tried to make frozen pizza."

Bucky fell back against the counter and slid to the floor, shaking as he laughed uncontrollably. He was aware of Sharon staring at him, but he didn't have the ability to be embarrassed by her scrutiny. The knowledge that Melody had managed to light something on fire while cooking not once, but _twice_ was too funny.

It took him several more minutes to get himself under control and he sat upright, breathing hard and he felt tears running down his face as he fought for air.

Sharon was staring at him still, a look of bewilderment written all across her face. He paused, looking back and noticing that she had the same jawline and intense eyes as her great-aunt. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

"On drugs?"

"No."

"Are you having a nervous breakdown?"

"No. Are you? You're acting weird." Sharon never interrogated him like this before.

"You just fell to the ground laughing."

"Yes."

"Over Melody's cooking abilities."

"I'd say it was more the lack of them," he flashed a grin at the doctor who scowled and crossed her arms. "Sort of funny to see that there's at least one thing in the world she can't do."

Melody's expression softened in a little bit but she didn't uncross her arms. Sharon let out a small laugh as well, but she didn't get out of control, as Bucky had done.

"Fine," the doctor grumbled, tossing the towel onto the counter. "I'll leave cooking detail to you guys."

"Probably a good idea," Bucky said, massaging his chest, trying to dispel the ache.  "But in all seriousness, what do you do when you're alone?"

Melody shrugged.  "I'm very good at microwaving and using the toaster."

"I don't think burned food tastes good microwaved either."

Sharon laughed. "They don't which is why I frequently bring food to her house, or come over and use her kitchen. It's nicer than mine anyways. Speaking of which," she gently pushed Melody aside. "I'm starving so Melody, you're banned from the kitchen, Bucky will be enforcing that rule while I work."

"This is my house," Melody complained, tossing back her hair which caught the sunlight spilling in through the windows and turning it burning gold.

"Yes and you'll burn it to the ground if you keep this up," Sharon said, winking as she rolled back her sleeves. Her tone was bright, joking obviously, but Melody wasn't laughing.

"Fine," she conceded, throwing her hands up and smiling. "You win."

"Bound to happen sometimes," Sharon said, smiling wider still at her friend. Melody slid around the counter to the bar stools and settled on one, her arms folding over. That motion stopped Bucky a little as he saw her hand trail up her scarred arm. 

 _She wouldn't mind burning this place down,_ he realized. _She'd throw the matches herself._

Bucky sat down next to her, deliberately keeping his eyes on the counter. If he looked at her, he'd probably wind up staring again and Sharon would notice for sure. He did not want to hear the lecture she'd give him about staying away from Melody. Not that it would matter now, but the agent didn't know that. 

"So," Sharon said as she  set a clean pan on the stove. "What sounds-?" A shrill ring of a phone cut her off and she dug into the pocket of her jeans and held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she continued to work. "Carter, talk to me."

Whoever was on the other end began speaking, Sharon's eyebrows furrowing together intently as she listened. She continued to gather a few things from around the kitchen, silent, save for the sounds of doors opening and closing. 

Bucky nudged Melody with his elbow and mouthed: _what's going on?_

Melody shrugged and directed her attention back to Sharon, her mouth tightening into a thin line. Bucky fought back a surge of unease. Melody only looked like that when she was uncertain or worried. 

 _Calm down,_ he told himself. _She always worries about Sharon._  

However, just as Bucky began to calm down, there was a loud crash and he watched, as though in slow motion as a jar slid out of Sharon's hand and onto the floor. Her face was bone white, that, combined with her light hair made her look like a phantom.

"Okay, I'll let her know."

She hung up the phone and glared at Bucky and Melody, her eyes hard. "You have to get out of here," she told him. " _Now_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! Thanks for reading! :) (And no, I'm not sorry!)


	44. Fourty-Four

"Go," Sharon urged, face still deathly white. "There's a clearing out in the woods about a mile from here-."

"I showed it to me already," Melody interjected, cutting Sharon off as she leapt to her feet. Turning, she glanced at James who was tensed up, eyes darting about, clearly ready for a fight if such a thing were to come and pass them by.

She grabbed the gun holstered at her hip and thrust it into his hands. "Go," she urged him. "We can handle things here, it's just a precaution."

That was a lie. Melody had no idea what was going on. She had no idea of removing James from the premise was a precaution or a necessity. She had no idea who had been on the  phone with Sharon or what they wanted. It didn't matter though. What mattered was making sure James was nowhere near this house when they arrived.

His long fingers closed around the gun and his dark blue eyes locked on Sharon. "What's happening?"

"We're about to get a few visitors," the agent said, grabbing a towel and wiping down every surface she could reach. Removing fingerprints, Melody figured which made her blood run cold. If someone were to search this house now they'd find traces of another person there everywhere they looked. 

She touched James's shoulder, drawing his attention back to her. He was still frozen stiff in his seat. "Go," Melody urged him again. "I'll find you then it's clear."

He didn't look convinced. Melody knew that stubborn expression, she'd seen in on his face for weeks, back before he'd managed to stab his hand with a steak knife. Melody tensed up a moment, fear like poison in her veins. He needed to go, needed to get out of this house so he could be safe. But that fear only lasted a moment and  she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and she went back in her mind, back to the smallest corner of it. The dark, little space in the farthest place of her thoughts, not unlike the closet Moria had locked her in as a child. The dark place was cold and empty. There was nothing there. Nothing to feel, nothing at all.

She opened her eyes and met James's fearful gaze. "Go," she said again, her voice firm, but not pleading. There was no reason to plead-pleading implied feeling. Melody felt nothing now. There was only logic in her and logic dictated that James being found in her house alongside Sharon Carter would spell out chaos for all three of them.

James, who'd been trying to avoid prison since he'd woken up would either be arrested and on the run after being spotted.

Melody and Sharon would both lose their jobs and be arrested for aiding and abetting a known criminal.

The logical reaction was to prevent those things from happening and the best way to do that was to remove James from the premise. 

James's jaw tensed but he stood up. He held out the gun to her. "Keep this."

She didn't take the gun and backed away from him. "No."

"Melody-." He began, a pleading, fearful edge to his tone. If it had been five minutes ago, the sound would've broken her heart, but Melody had no heart now. 

"If I am armed it will look suspicious," she said, her voice firm, but devoid still of any fear or empathy or anything else. "No one expects attacks in their own house." She began to walk out of the kitchen, footsteps echoing on the wood floors. Her pace was easy and steady-confidence in motion. 

She walked up the stairs, hearing James call after her one more time. Melody didn't stop as she climbed the stairs.

 _I'll strip the bedding and throw it in the wash,_ she thought to herself. That would have the most physical evidence on it. She entered the room, moving quickly but efficiently a she tore apart the bed she and James had occupied only a few hours before. Gathering the mass together, she walked down the hall and tossed it into the washing machine and spun the dial.

There was a whir as the machine came to life and Melody paused, considering her next step. To remove evidence from the whole house in such a short amount of time would be impossible. They didn't have the time or the numbers to accomplish that. The best thing to do would just be to tackle the largest areas and hope the coming agents would be fooled.

She walked towards the bedroom again, grabbing a rag and furniture polish from the rack in the laundry room as she passed by. She re-entered the room and began to wipe down the bedframe, nightstands and doorknobs. Melody did not work frantically-that would have been foolish.

Those agents, she inferred were going to be on her doorstep any moment. If they heard her, carrying on and hurrying about like a maniac, they would have been altered to the fact that something funny was going on. Raising suspicion would have been foolish and wasteful.

Melody wiped the last of the door handles and returned the rag and polish to their place in the laundry room. Her eye fell on the door that had been James's room when he'd first arrived. She debated moving to it for a moment, but then thought better of it. He hadn't been there in months. Time would've eroded away some of the evidence by now. Not all of it, but enough, hopefully that it wouldn't arose concern in the agents. 

There was a loud knock that sounded below her and Melody walked down the stairs to answer it. She cleared the final set of steps and looked over at Sharon who was white-faced and frantic as she hurried into the kitchen, broom in one hand. She'd been cleaning the living room.

"Put that away," Melody instructed her as she walked towards the door. "We can take a break from it."

"Mel," Sharon hissed but Melody ignored her friend and walked towards the front door.

She grabbed the handle, pulling her sleeve over it to wipe away any excess fingerprints and opened the door.

Standing on the porch was a familiar face and one that was not. A broad-shouldered black-man with an eyepatch was glaring at Melody with his good eye-Nick Fury. Melody remembered him well, she'd operated on him after the Winter Solider had tried to kill him. Beside him, another man, but he was a stranger. He was tall and thin with short brown hair and a pointed chin.

"Who's injured?" she asked. It felt like a fair question to open with. That was what had happened last time she'd Fury. He'd been on her table, prepped and waiting when she came in. 

Fury's lips twitched. "Always so morbid Mel."

"Doctor Fraiser," she corrected instantly. 

"Haven't we moved passed that?" the S.H.E.I.L.D. director complained in his low, authoritative voice. "You've been elbow deep in my guts."

"I know," Melody replied. Normally, with his tense gaze, black clothing, tall stance and voice Nick Fury would've intimated Melody a little bit. But not now. Now the agent who worked tirelessly to protect from alien threats was just an obstacle to her. A threat to her and the life she'd built for herself.

"Very well," he sighed, apparently defeated when she offered no other words. Fury's good eye flickered to the man beside him. "Colson, this is doctor Melody Fraiser, Doctor, this is Agent Phil Colson."

The stranger-Phil extended his hand which Melody accepted. "Nice to meet you," he said with a polite smile. 

Melody nodded, but did not repeat the sentiment. It wasn't true. She released his hand and crossed her arms, seizing up both men as she did so. 

"Doctor Frasier has been helpful to us in the past," Fury continued. "She saved my life once, after the Winter Solider attacked me six months ago. Fixed up Captain America after his encounter with the guy as well.

Phil nodded, eyes sparkling with interest. "Really?" he asked. "I didn't see your name on the file when I read it." His words had a double meaning which Melody heard instantly. _Why wasn't her name there?_ he was saying. _Why would she hide that accomplishment?_

"Off the record of course," Melody interjected. "I prefer to be anonymous when it comes to my dealings with S.H.E.I.L.D. I couldn't go to work talking about how I know a few Avengers-word would get around to unfriendly ears."

Phil straightened his tie, regarding her silently. Melody could almost hear the gears whirring in his head as he processed that. "Makes sense, though it does seem a bit paranoid."

"I said the same thing," Fury commented, raising one eyebrow. 

"Perhaps," Melody said, shrugging. "But I'd rather have the duties separated anyways. I dislike complications almost as much as I dislike incompetence." 

"Ain't that the truth?" The gruff voice of Sam Wilson reached her ears and Melody waited as he walked up the porch.

His goatee was a bit unkempt which spoke of being overworked or otherwise hassled. Sam never let his facial hair get out of control like that. He grinned broadly at Melody. "Doctor Freezer," he teased, his grin vivid white against his mocha colored skin. "How are things at West Memorial?"

Melody didn't return his smile. "I wouldn't know, I'm not there."

Sam's grin fell. "Did someone skip out on their coffee this morning?"

"I was just about to make a pot, care for some?" she offered, standing aside to invite the men in. Melody would not ask them why they had come, they'd tell her on their own time. They always did and to change that routine would've been disruptive. 

She led the ways towards the kitchen, noting that both Phil and Sam were looking about the house appreciatively. "Damn Mel," she heard the Avenger whistle. "I didn't know you had a place out here."

"Real estate is always a good investment," she responded as she opened the cupboard and grabbed the Folgers. "I'd offer you some breakfast too, but sadly that was a failed attempt."

"Failed attempt?" Sharon came into view, no longer so white faced and smiling. She was a great actress. "You set off the smoke alarms!"

Melody shrugged as she put the filter into the coffee pot. "I did."

"It wasn't that bad though," Sharon said, striding over to the island where the three men had settled themselves. "Once, in college, Mel and I were visiting Aunt Peggy and while we were there, Mel decided she wanted to try and make us lunch." Sharon paused, shaking her head and smiling even wider.

"What happened?" asked Sam, smiling as well, apparently put at ease by Sharon's inviting manner. Melody saw the sense in that. Laughter and smiling always put people in more comfortable moods and lightened the atmosphere. Well most people anyways, she didn't see any reason to smile.

She grabbed five cups from another cupboard as Sharon told a laughing Sam of how Melody had forgotten the pizza in the oven and how it had lit on fire as result.

Sam was still laughing when Melody set a mug of coffee in front of him as well as the other two men. "Thanks Mel," he said conversationally. "Do you have any creamer?"

"No," she replied, taking a drink of her own coffee. The liquid was hot and bitterly strong-exactly how she preferred it. 

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Mel drinks black coffee. It makes me think she's not even human." 

"Anyone who can drink coffee plain is another breed," Sam agreed. "This stuff is nasty by itself."

Sharon nodded her agreement and backed up towards the fridge where she grabbed a gallon of milk. "Desperate times," she said, unscrewing the cap, "call for desperate measures." And she poured a generous amount of milk into her coffee before passing it over to Sam.

"Thanks," he grinned at Sharon. He seemed to want to say something else, but Fury cut across him.

"Interesting as your coffee preferences are Doctor," he said, his own cup untouched in front of him. "That's not why we're here."

"I never assumed it was," Melody answered back calmly, uncaring at the harshness of Fury's tone or how his one eye was boring into her. 

The agent called Phil looked taken aback at Fury's bluntness. "I apologize for that Doctor," he said with a brief glare at Fury. "It's been a long investigation and sadly we don't have much to show for it."

"Don't have much? We don't have anything!" Sam interjected as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "It's been dead end after dead end looking for Bucky."

Melody saw Sharon's smile flicker a moment. Her own face did not change, nor did her relaxed stance, leaning against the counter as she sipped her coffee. "I'm afraid I don't understand," Melody said taking another swallow of coffee. "I'll do whatever I can to help you, but I need a better overview of the patient-." They always came to her with patients, assuming this was another time was a logical progression of thought. They would expect nothing less from her. 

"He's not a patient," Fury interrupted her musings. "He's a criminal."

"He's Steve's friend," Sam countered, voice harsh but Fury ignored him as he pulled out a file from his coat. Melody neared the counter and gestured with an open palm towards the file.

"May I?" she asked and the agent nodded to her.

She flipped open the folder and saw James's face staring back up at her, along with a list of last known whereabouts and defining markings. She read over the information quietly, intently as though she had no knowledge of any of it.

"This it the man who attacked you?" she asked, looking up at Fury. "The last time we saw one another."

The agent nodded and crossed his arms. "The very same one."

"I see. So you're looking for him then?"

"Correct. Given how you work in one of the largest hospitals in New York, we thought you might have seen him. You get all sorts of strange in the ER, don't you?"

Melody looked over the file again. "I do," she said, staring at James's glossy face. "However, I'm sorry to disappoint you gentlemen, but I've never had a man who looks like this come into my ER."

This time it was Colson who spoke up. "Are you prepared to answer that on a lie detector?" HIs gaze was skeptical and his tone was hard, accusatory. 

Sharon answered before Melody could. "Hey!" she snarled, smile fading entirely as she glared at Colson. "Don't you _dare_ talk to Mel like that!"

Colson's expression remained skeptical but his tone was softer when he replied to Sharon. "Forgive me, Agent Carter, I don't mean to disrespect your friend-."

"And yet here you sit, accusing her of lying about whether or not she's seen a fugitive that evaded S.H.E.L.D. for seventy plus years!" Sharon spat, eyebrows drawn down and scowling. "Mel is the reason two of the people sitting here are alive and is the reason Captain America is alive as well. Either you show her some respect or I throw you out of her myself!"

Melody grabbed Sharon's arm, forestalling her. "Easy," she said coolly. "He's got every right to question me."

Phil looked rather surprised at that. His thin eyebrows rose up his forehead. "Oh? Do I? You're reacting very well to being called a liar."

 _I've built my entire life on lies. I am a liar._ "Why should you trust me?" she asked, taking another drink of her coffee which was getting cold. "You don't know me at all. I'm a  strange woman your boss introduced you to about ten minutes ago. If you trust me after that brief a period you're fool. And," her gaze flashed to the S.H.E.I.L.D. emblem on his badge. "I doubt very much you are a fool Agent Colson, given your line of work, were you a fool, you would already be dead and buried."

Phil gave her a rueful smile. "That's true enough."

"If you want me to do a lie detector give me and time and place," Melody offered. "I'd be glad to take it if that would lessen your worries about my testimonies." 

Phil opened his mouth to answer, but Fury put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Doctor," he said gruffly. "But that will not be required."

"What?" Phil said, mouth open with shock.

"This was a far-fetched lead to start with," Fury said, his voice ringing with finality. "Only reason I suggested it was because the chances were slim, but still there nonetheless. If she says she hasn't seen him, then she hasn't seen him."

Melody regarded Director Fury. "I never took you for the trusting type Fury."

"I'm not," he said, rising from his seat. "I just know the facts, if you wanted to cause us trouble, you could've done a lot more already by botching that surgery you did on me or Rogers. We're done here Colson, Sam, you coming with?"

Sam had been silent during the whole exchange and his dark gaze was flickering between Melody and the agents. "I'll be off, but I'll go my own way, find Steve. He's not gonna like this." The Avenger's face fell as he said that. The sight was something Melody would've pitied, had she been in a normal state of mind.

The two agents showed themselves out, but Sam stayed put awhile longer. When the door clicked shut behind them, he looked up at Melody and sighed. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "I didn't know Colson would be like that."

Melody drained the last of her coffee. "It's fine."

"No it's not." Sam scowled, "He shouldn't have talked to you like that."

"You're telling me," Sharon muttered darkly and her knuckles white as she clenched her hands into fists.  

"Calm down," Melody said. 

"I am calm!" 

"You're shouting right now," she pointed out,  "and you looked ready to throttle Agent Colson."

Sharon's face turned a bit pink and when she spoke, her tone was much more appropriate for the indoors. "Right sorry-and of course I was ready to throttle him. That was uncalled for. Asking you for a polygraph!" She snorted. "Just because you're file isn't in the archives doesn't mean you're a double agent."

"I'm not an agent," Melody said, setting her cup in the sink. "I'm a doctor."

"You're a good one too," Sam commented as he pushed himself away from the island. "Don't make a bad cup of coffee either. Though I still say cream and sugar is needed. Thanks Mel."

"Don't mention it." She muttered, "And Sam?"

The Falcon turned to look her. "Yeah?"

"I'll keep an eye out for the Winter Solider, I'll call if I see anything." 

Sam shrugged. "We knew this was far-fetched Mel. This was  more to humor Steve than anything. He just won't give up."

"People are funny that way," Melody commented as she turned on the water and began to wash the dishes in the sink. "I hope your friend takes this okay. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."

Sam shrugged. "It's nothing to be sorry for. It's not like you have control who comes into your ER. See you around Mel."

"Goodbye." Sam left as well and the door slammed behind him. Melody waited until she heard the metallic unfurling of his armor and the loud swooping as he took off the ground and headed into flight.

She looked over at Sharon, who's eyes were now trained on her phone. "They're gone."

"How do you know?"

"I put a tracer on their car, " the agent explained. "It'll pop off once they're a mile out. They'll never know it was there."

Melody nodded. "Any foreign tech left here?"

Sharon tapped a few buttons on her phone. "I swept the porch and living room before I got here and they were clean. And this place is too," she said as her phone beeped. "It's over."

It was just like stepping out of the OR. The knowledge that the situation was over. Ended and done with. A hand reached into the dark spot in Melody's mind and flipped a switch.

Quick as a flashflood, Melody's emotions slammed back into her. The fear and anxiety that had began when she knew the agents were visiting bubbled back to the surface and her hands trembled violently, dropping the mug from her hands. It shattered loudly in the sink but she barely noticed the noise. 

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest as she heard James's voice in her memory, calling after her as she walked away. Fearful and begging for her to be safe, she'd ignored it. She hadn't cared.

Sharon leaping to her defense when Agent Colson had accused of her being a liar. A warmth equal parts shame and gratefulness washed over Melody. Her friend had leapt to her defense, disregarding rank and whom she was talking to. Her belief in Melody was concrete, absolute. Nothing to could shake it. Even though it was incredibly misplaced.

"Mel?" Sharon was at her side, grabbing her shoulders. "Are you okay? You're shaking!"

"Delayed reaction," Melody said, which was not entirely untrue as she tried not to breathe too rapidly. The last thing she wanted to do was hyperventilate. "That was a bit...intense."

"You're telling me," Sharon shook her head, letting go of Melody and leaning against the counter, breathing deeply. "I never thought they'd think to come here asking about him."

"Neither did I," Melody admitted.

"But it's alright. No harm, no foul right?"

"Right," she agreed. 

"Are you going to go and get-."

Melody shook her head. "Not yet," she said, "I want to wait until those agents are off the tracker like you said they'd be. Then I'll know they didn't just circle around and come back."

"Good thinking," Sharon nodded. "You know, Mel, if you didn't want to be a doctor, you'd made a good agent."

She laughed then, the sound shaky. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Sharon said, "you handle yourself well, especially under pressure."

The sound of her father's shouting followed by the sound of her own screams filled Melody's head. _Sharon, you have no idea how true that is._  

_*********************************** _

**_Thanks for reading! :)_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we are almost to the end! You excited? Thanks for reading! :)


	45. Forty-Five

Bucky was sure he'd worn a rut into the clearing by now. He entire time he'd been out in the woods, the crisp autumn air pleasant around him. But even with that, he was unable to relax. Sharon's white face as she hung up the phone and Melody's response to it, lacking any emotions- a sure sign that things were bad. Melody never shut down her feelings unless something was bad.

She loved him, Bucky knew that. And yet whe he'd pleaded with her to keep her gun, keep a weapon to protect herself and she had ignored him. His words did not effect her.

 _I should never have left,_ he thought, a hundred situations rolling over in his head. Some were mild, things going well. Others were grisly and covered in blood. He had no idea which had come to pass and it made his heart fall like a stone into his stomach.

If something had happened to her, if she was hurt or arrested, it would be his fault.

A bitter taste filled his mouth and Bucky stopped his restless pacing and hung his head, breathing hard and resisting the urge to bolt and go back to the house.

 _She said she'd come for you,_ he reasoned _. You have no reason to think something went wrong._ Still, the logic didn't do much to calm him down and he fell onto the forest floor, leaves and twigs crunching underneath him as he landed.

 _Melody_ , he thought, burying his face in his hands. _Nightingale I'm so sorry._

He could've stayed like that for ages, half frozen with fear and half ready to leap up and run towards Melody, hold her and know she was safe.

There was a crunching noise, followed by a familiar voice. In that moment, he'd never heard anything so beautiful.

"James?"

He scrambled to his feet as the surgeon came into view. Her pale hair was tied behind her head and she had changed clothes. She was wearing a thick black sweater-the same one she'd worn the night they first kissed.

When she saw him, Bucky was shocked to see her eyes fill with tears. Her arms dropped from their crossed formation and she ceased walking and ran towards him.

Bucky barely had time to open his arms when she reached him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his check. "I'm sorry," she whined into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, easy," Bucky muttered taken aback by her actions. If anyone needed to apologize it was him. "It's okay!"

"I love you," she continued as though she hadn't heard him. Her arms tightened around him, not choking but still not comfortable. "I love you so much!"

Melody buried her face in his shoulder, overcome and crying. Bucky felt her tears soak his shirt. "Nightingale," Bucky muttered, stroking her hair and holding her as fiercely as she held him. "It's alright. I love you, it's okay. You're safe. I'm safe. It's over."

"It's not okay," she whimpered, still clinging to him as though her life depended on it. "I'm so sorry. I love you."

"What are you sorry for?" He asked, breathing deeply. Her last few days away from the hospital had stripped away the smell of stainless steel from Melody, but the scent of her soap and coffee remained.

"I shut down. I looked at you, I love you but I didn't let myself feel it. I couldn't love you then.  I heard you, I heard you calling me but I didn't care. I'm so sorry."

Melody dissolved into tears again and Bucky drew away, and forced her chin up so he could see her face. "Nightingale," he said, wiping away her tears. "You did what you had to do to keep both of us safe. Never apologize for that." He kissed her lips, barely a peck and drew away before pressing his lips to her forehead.  She should not apologize. There was nothing she had to apologize for.

"James..."

"I love you," he told her, wrapping his arms around her again. Bucky knew he'd have to let go when they got back to the house. Sharon was still there. "And I'll love you no matter what, even if you have moments were you have to shut down. It doesn't change how I feel. I know you'll come back to me. You always have."

Melody wrapped her hand around his wrist and brushed her lips across his fingers. They were cold, like usual but her kiss was like fire.

If Sharon had not been waiting for them, back at the house, Bucky knew what he would've done. He'd have held Melody tight against him and kissed her, dragging her down onto the forest floor, ripping off their clothing as they went. But he couldn't. He couldn't love her the way he wanted to right now, the real world was waiting for them.

And in the real world, there was no place for Doctor Frasier to love the Winter Solider.

"We should go back," Bucky said, looking at Melody who's eyes were half closed as she held his hand. "Sharon's waiting and she'll be worried if we take too long."

Melody bit her lip and looked up at Bucky with mischief in her gaze. "She's waiting," she agreed. "So I guess we'll have to do that too, for a while at least." She laced her fingers through his. "We'll be alone later tonight."

Bucky was unable to stop the low-burning heat that spread through him when he heard that. "Yeah, we do. And I don't have to let go yet," he grinned. "We have a bit of a walk back."

Melody smiled and the expression filled her face with a gentle beauty that had once gone unnoticed by Bucky.

They walked out of the clearing saying nothing and still holding hands. Bucky was thankful for the time they had walking, for the time he could still hold on.

 _But how much longer can you do that?_ The little, annoying voice was back in his head. _How much longer can you hold on and still keep her safe?_

Bucky tried to ignore the voice, but as they neared the house and let their intwined hands fall apart he realized that the voice had a point. The thought left him feeling unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four more chapters! :D Thanks for reading!


	46. Forty-Six

Bucky gasped for air as he laid next to Melody, legs still tangled around hers as they caught their breath. He rolled to his side so he could look at Melody. Her face was flushed and her mouth was swollen from their kisses. He spotted a few bruises along her throat and collar bone as well, some newly formed, others a bit older.

The sight of them brought a smile to Bucky's face. "You know," he commented, tracing one of the bruises with the tip of his finger. "I was told, as a kid, that it was never acceptable to leave a bruise on a woman. They lied."

Melody laughed, the sound like a bell. She threw one arm around his neck, drawing him down towards her. "They just didn't want you getting any...inappropriate ideas."

Bucky laughed. He bent his head, letting their lips meet again. This kiss wasn't like the ones they'd shared only minutes before, this was not wild, desperate and hungry. This was content, easy and gentle.

Bucky couldn't decide which method he preferred as they were both quite nice.

He drew away and shifted on the mattress, drawing closer to Melody who snuggled into him and sighed.

"I love you," she whispered, yawning as her hands folded against his chest. "Goodnight."

"I love you," he muttered back, knowing she was already drifting off to sleep. Melody had an uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere and do so quickly. When she was comfortable, it was even easier. "I love you so much," he whispered, shutting out everything else focusing solely on her.

The soft press of her body curled against his. Her warm skin, the smell of coffee, sweat and clean sheets around her. The glint of her light hair as moonlight spilled into the room. The mixture of textures, smooth and soft as well as rugged that made her up her skin.

"I love you," he whispered again, shutting his eyes and knowing she couldn't hear. "So much." His arms tightened around her as he opened his eyes. That annoying little voice was back.

 _How much do you love her?_ It asked. _Enough to risk her being imprisoned? Or killed in the crossfire when they come for you? You know they won't take you alive._

 _Shut up,_ he thought back and the voice complied for once. But it didn't matter the damage had already been done.

Bucky opened his eyes, looking at Melody who was sleeping peacefully against his chest. She was safe for now. Safe in his arms and she was happy.

But that had almost changed today, S.H.I. E. L. D. had come knocking on their door. It had only been pure luck that it hasn't turned violent. If they hadn't gotten the warning from Sharon, if Bucky hadn't gotten out and hidden away in time, there would've been a fight. It always ended with a fight. And then, in the midst of all that chaos, Melody could've been hurt or worse.

The thought made Bucky feel ice cold and he let go of Melody with one arm and pulled the blankets farther up. It still did nothing to dispel the chill.

He settled down again, not bothering to close his eyes. Though his body was tired, weak from loving Melody, sleep would not come. Bucky was warm, content as he laid so near the woman he'd grown to love-and sleep would not come to him. Not with the morbid thoughts that were lingering on the edge of his mind.

If that brain-washing hardware was still in his mind, if Melody was near when it was activated-he could kill her and do so without a thought or care for who she was. It wouldn't matter how much he loved her-because he would no longer remember that he did.

That out of all of them, out of every nightmare he'd ever had, that had been the worst. It was the only one that hadn't actually happened, but it was the one that had filled Bucky with the most fear. The people in his dreams, his memories from Hydra, they were beyond help. Nothing could be done to save them. And guiltily as he felt and as much as he regretted what he's done to them, he hadn't known them. Or at least, not known most of them.

Melody was different. She was alive. She was someone he knew. Someone he loved. In his nightmares he'd been what killed her and he'd been terrified that it could become real. However, Bucky had also been able to acknowledge it was a slim chance. Melody knew to run if she heard those words and what was more, no one who knew about that programming was anywhere near them.

But now, after today, Bucky realized another danger to Melody. A danger that wasn't him, but rather a by-product of what he'd become. He was a criminal. And if he was found, Bucky knew the strategy wouldn't be to take him alive.

The number of people who were after him, who would carry out that strategy were innumerable. Much more so than the handlers of Hydra.

Those people could find him, they'd come so close today. And if they found him, they would've found Melody too.

Bucky held her closer, images of Melody, riddled with bullet holes, or locked in a cell running over and over in his mind. Unwillingly he felt tears burn in his eyes, even as he tried in vain to force them back.

Melody stirred. "James?" Her voice was sleepy at first, but she woke up quickly when she got a better look at him. "James," she demanded, holding his face in her hands. "James what's wrong?"

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling tears stream down his face and his jaw clench tightly. "I love you."

In the dim light, Bucky saw her eyebrows rise upwards. "I know," she wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "I know you love me."

"I could've lost you today," Bucky said in a choked voice. "If Sharon hadn't warned us..."

"That's enough James," Melody said firmly. "I'm fine, nothing happened to me. And nothing would have, not with Sharon there."

"Sharon is only human," said Bucky, his gaze drifting away from Melody. He grabbed one of her hands with his own, holding tight. "Humans make mistakes." He turned his head, kissing her palm. "If anything had happened...Melody you didn't even have a gun..."

"Because I didn't need one," she said firmly. "They were only there to ask if I'd seen you in my ER. I haven't. I could've passed a polygraph if I had to. They were chasing a hope of a hope. They didn't believe you were really here, they just did it to look like they were doing something productive."

" _This_ time," Bucky said, a defeated note in his voice. "That is what they were doing _this_ time. S. H. I. E. L. D. isn't the only organization after me."

"No, but they won't look here. One of them already looked and found nothing."

"But-."

"That's enough," she said, her voice hard as stone. "James, I know today scared you. It scared me too." She leaned forward, letting their lips meet again. Pressing her forehead against his, she continued. "It was scary, o know that. But being paranoid isn't going to help. Stop this, stop talking like this." Melody sighed and her tone softened. "Hold me." Her voice took on a pleading edge and Bucky was powerless against it.

He let his arms twine around the doctor and held her against his chest. Her arm snaked around him as well, hand resting right over his heart. "Better?" he asked.

"Much better," she said, brushing a kiss across his chest. Without prompting, Melody began to sing. Bucky recognized the song this time, she'd sung it before. _Chasing Cars,_ it was called. Why that was the name, he had no idea as the phrase was only used once in the entire song. However, the smooth, simple tune did have a lullaby-like quality and Bucky soon found himself drifting off, his arms still around Melody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters to go! Sorry about the lag between updates; I got sick over the weekend. Thanks for reading! :)


	47. Forty-Seven

Over the next few days, Bucky realized something about life that had previously been unknown to him. Knowing what you had to do and knowing that it was right didn't make doing it any easier.

A few more days passed and he and Melody spoke nothing more of the visiting agents. In many ways, things even returned to normal as Melody was given permission to return to work, with the condition of one month's probation.

The return to her work had made her incredibly happy. She'd leave in the early hours of the morning, like always, kissing Bucky goodbye before grabbing her keys and coffee. She'd return in the evenings, tired but thrilled with the result of another day's work and fall asleep in his arms, like there was no other place she wanted to be.

Bucky was loathe to change that, but still...He knew he had to.

So, as he came downstairs, one crisp fall morning, he made his choice.

Melody was already in the kitchen. She had the day off and was singing cheerfully to herself. Bucky paused outside the kitchen, savoring the image of the surgeon twirling about in her jeans and smiling.

"James?" She called, stopping abruptly as she realized she was being watched. "Is that you?"

"Yeah." He adjusted the strap on his shoulder. The backpack was one he had stolen in his first few weeks on the run. It had been much lighter when he'd come to the house. Now it was weighed down with every notebook he'd filled since being here. They were coming with him.

"Want a cup of coffee?" she asked cheerfully, spinning away to grab it even as Bucky entered the room.

He shook his head, a lump forming rapidly in his throat. "No."

"No?" Melody's voice was disbelieving. "Don't tell me you're buying into that urban legend of coffee stunting you're growth." She turned around, smiling but the expression fell off her face when she saw how he was dressed. "James?" She asked, eyes wide and face pale. "What are you doing?"

Bucky's jaw tightened. "I'm leaving."

Melody set her mug down on the counter, her coffee completely forgotten. "What?"

"We got lucky when those agents came. I'm not paranoid, I'm right. You know it as well as I do." The words were like glass in his throat. "We got lucky this time but luck runs out. Sooner or later we won't be so fortunate-and Melody, it t won't be a peaceful arrest when I'm found. The orders are not going to be to take me alive."

"All the more reason you should stay here," she replied. "There are more witnesses to spot you in a crowd, there aren't any out here."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But if I'm found anywhere else, I'm the only one who gets hurt. If I'm here, with you, you're another target at worst. At best you'll just be arrested."

Melody's heart-shaped face was even paler at his words, but her voice betrayed no fear when she spoke. "What if I already considered that the moment you walked into my house? What if I decided I'm okay with taking that risk?"

"If that was true," Bucky said, hating himself for what he was about to say. "If you were truly at peace with the idea of dying your name would be in S.H.I. E. L. D. files. And if you were okay with going to prison you would've come clean about your father by now."

Melody's face when from passive to livid in the span of one second. "Excuse me?" she growled, face turning red.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You had to fight tool and nail to get the life you have now. You're too smart to throw away all that struggling and pain for perfect strangers."

"You're not a stranger," Melody said, voice thick as tears gleamed in her dark green eyes.

"No, and you're not a stranger to me either. I love you too much for that." Bucky took a step towards her, reaching out and cupping her face with his hand. Melody trembled at his touch and a tear leaked from her eye.

Brushing it away, Bucky continued. "I'm not putting you at risk anymore. Nothing is worth you being in danger."

"Even your freedom?" She challenged, eyes boring into him. "Even your own life?"

Bucky didn't hesitate when he answered. He'd asked himself this question already over the last few days. "If it's between my life and yours, then yes. I will chose your life every time. I'm choosing you."

At that, the fight drained out of Melody and she broke down, crying in earnest. Heart wrenching in his chest, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, holding tight.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough as he felt tears roll down his face. "Please know that."

"I do," she whimpered, hands digging into his jacket. Melody pulled away from him, not entirely, as Bucky had expected her to do, but enough to look up at him. "I used to just think this was love, now I know I'm right."

"Is that so Doctor?" He asked, laughing but it sounded more like a choked sob. In fact, it probably was. His heart was ripping in two. "What confirmed your theory?"

"You chose me," she answered, smiling through her tears as she brushed hair away from Bucky's eyes. Her fingers were light and warm against his face. Bucky leaned into her touch, feeling both pain and pleasure run through him.

Bucky pulled her closer, holding her against him, savoring the feeling. He knew this would be one of the last times he would hold her.

"I love you," she whispered into his chest. The sound was like gunfire in the quiet house.

"I know."

Melody laughed weakly against him. "Did you just quote _Star Wars_ at me?"

Bucky frowned. "That wasn't in the movie."

"Oh shit," Melody laughed again. "That's the second one."

Bucky loosened his hold on her and looked down at her. A sad smile was one her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bucky wiped them away but it was useless as more came.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, blinking away tears of his own. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Melody shook her head. "It's not like that. You're not hurting me. Saying goodbye is what hurts." She paused a moment. "I don't work today."

"I know that." He'd memorized her entire schedule. It was ingrained in Bucky now.

"Can you stay then? Just for one more day. Please." The last bit came out rushed and stopped any protest Bucky could've made. The smart thing would've been to leave as soon as possible. He'd been there too long already. And yet...

Bucky didn't reply with words. His grip on Melody tightened as he drew her in closer to him and silenced her continued pleas with a rough kiss.

She was shocked, initially given how she stiffened at his touch. But it lasted only for a second. She melted into him, arms curling around his neck and hands twining into his hair and knocking the baseball cap he'd been wearing off him.

 _Melody_ , he sighed in his mind, letting his hands trail down her back and drifting lower still. This kiss was full of passion, but he tasted pain as well. It took a moment, but Bucky realized why it was familiar. This was like their first kiss. Passion and pain as reality and desire collided in a brutal, inescapable way.

Bucky's hands shifted towards her legs, lifting her clear off the ground and onto the nearby counter. Melody broke away, gasping in surprise and Bucky realized his mistake.

"Sorry-." He didn't get to finding, Melody's lips crushed his, desperate and hungry.

"Enough," she moaned against him, unzipping his jacket even as Bucky shrugged it off. Her hands trailed up his arms, short nails scratching his skin in a way that should've hurt but didn't.

Bucky growled in response and broke away from her mouth, panting and letting one hand snake around to the front of her blouse and deftly undoing the buttons. As more and more skin was exposed, Bucky wasted no time exploring it.

Melody moaned with each kiss he left on her collar and chest, gasping his name as he began to remove her bra. Slowly, teasing just to drive her crazy. Bucky loved doing that. Melody was always so controlled, so sure and seeing her change from that, to getting lost in sensation, in desire was a welcome sight indeed.

Before he could fully discard the garment however, the shrill, familiar ring of a cellphone stopped him.

"Damnit to hell," Bucky growled. It was official, he hated cell phones. They always had the worst timing.

Melody tapped the device and a female voice sounded in the kitchen. Bucky gave her a questioning look which Melody answered by sliding her hands down his chest, towards the hem of his red shirt.

"Mel," the woman said, "I am about to replace Solider Boy as your favorite person."

"Unlikely," Melody replied, pulling Bucky's shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor. She hands were on his bare chest, tracing the shape of each muscle and bone as she found them and Bucky hand to grab the counter to stay on his feet. He wasn't even able to question who "Solider Boy" was. It was lost as he focused solely on the sensations Melody was creating in him. "What's going on?"

"Once in a lifetime surgery is what's going on."  
The woman said. "Domino procedure. I would've called you sooner, but I didn't know if the Chief would let you in on it because of your probation."

"It's fine," Melody muttered, eyes wide and shining. Bucky had no idea what a domino procedure was, but Melody did. And apparently it was important. Bucky sighed to himself, keeping a loose grip on Melody's hand but he knew this was over. This was their goodbye. Someone in that hospital needed Melody. She wouldn't just leave them.

"So how soon can you get here?" The woman continued and Bucky could hear the smile on her voice.

Melody glanced at Bucky. "Thank you, Miranda but I'm out of town for the weekend. I won't be back until Monday."

"What? Sorry? I think I need to clean my ears out." The shock in the woman's voice was clear, but it was nothing compared to what Bucky was feeling. "Did Doctor Freezer just turn down surgery?"

"Yeah," Melody answered, gripping Bucky's hand tightly and letting her other hand slide down his chest towards his waist. "She did."

"Are you sick?" The woman-Miranda asked and she sounded perfectly serious.

"I'll see you Monday," Melody said even as she unbuttoned Bucky's jeans. She tapped the phone, ending the call and Bucky took the chance to speak.

"Melody?" He couldn't really form more coherent thoughts as he felt her hands forcing down his jeans.

"I'm choosing you," she said as his pants fell to the ground. "I chose you."

Bucky smiled and kissed Melody, hands sliding down her sides towards the waistband of her pants. He removed those quickly as he was able and lifted her up again. Her long, smooth legs wrapped around him as they kissed.

"What are we doing?"  She asked as Bucky began to walk.

"We're not staying here," he told her between kisses. Speech was a bit difficult at the moment, but it had to be said.

"Bedroom?"

"Too far," Bucky growled, smiling against her lips as he walked them into the living room. With a mischievous grin, Bucky tossed Melody onto the couch and shrill laughter exploded out of her.

Bucky laughed as well, but wasted no time in straddling Melody. Heart beating fast in his chest, he bent low, brushing a kiss across the scar that was carved into her chest. He moved lower, slow and deliberate as he did the same to the scars on her stomach.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. Bucky knew she wouldn't believe him, he was half-waiting to hear her objection but it didn't come. He looked up, breathing hard. "Shit, was that Russian?"

Melody shook her head, a smile on her face. "No," she reached up, stroking his cheek. "You didn't."

Bucky's blood went cold as he saw tears in her eyes. "Nightingale," he said, moving up and putting an arm around her waist. "What's wrong? Melody we don't have to do anything-!"

She silenced him with a kiss. Bucky tasted salt. "I believe you," she said and Bucky felt her tremble against him. "I finally believe you."

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound a bit crazy, like he was high. Maybe he was. Endorphins were what created the "high" feeling and he was sure his mind was releasing plenty right then. He'd told Melody she was beautiful, and this time she'd believed him.

Melody snuggled into him, brushing a kiss across his chest, right over his heart. She shifted again, hooking her leg around his waist and Bucky growled at the intimate contact. Blood throbbed hotly through the lower regions of his body and he clung to Melody, scarcely able to breathe. Before he lost himself completely in her, he had one thing he wanted to ask.

"Who's Solider Boy? Patient of yours?"

Melody traced circles into his chest with her index finger. "You."

That wasn't the answer he was expecting. "Me?"

She nodded. "Yep. That's what my scrub nurses and Doctor Richards call you."

Bucky's lips twitched as he let his fingers walk up Melody's back, towards the hooks on her bra. "They know about me?"

"Sort of. They spend so much time with me, they could hardly fail to notice how much happier I've been since being with you. I had to say something."

Bucky unhooked her bra and tossed it to the floor. "And what'd you tell them?"

"That I was seeing an ex-solider." Melody smirked a little. "It wasn't a lie."

"How'd you meet that ex-solider?"

"I broke down one day after work while on a walk, he was passing by, stopped and comforted me. When I got up to leave, he offered to walk me home."

"Sounds like a good guy," Bucky commented, leaning into her.

"He is." Melody agreed, hand curling around his face and closing her eyes as their lips met again.

Nothing more was said. Nothing more could be said. Words changed nothing now. All that could be done was to create one more memory, one more good thing to hold onto when they were both alone again.

***

Bucky awoke to sunlight in his eyes. Groaning, he sat up and looked around. He was still in the living room. They'd been there all day yesterday, save moments when they'd had to attend to more mundane needs.

Bucky grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on. _Is Melody gone already?_ He wondered, feeling numb as he moved towards the kitchen and grabbed the remainder of his clothing and his backpack.

He dressed quickly, feeling rather sore in some places but uncaring all the same. The soreness would be a reminder that all of this had been real. That loving Melody hadn't been a dream.

He shouldered the backpack and grabbed his hat from the floor. He had everything now. All he needed to do was go. Bucky's eyes burned again

"James?"

He turned around and saw Melody standing by the stairs. She too, was dressed in the same white blouse and jeans she'd been in yesterday.

"Hey."

"Hi," she said, taking a step closer. "I'm glad I caught you. I would've woken you up sooner, but..." She took a shaky breath and Bucky saw her eyes gleam with tears again. "I needed a little time to finish something for you."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small radio with headphones. Bucky had seen things like those when he'd first been running, trying to put his past back together. They'd been part of the Howling Commando exhibit.

Melody held the device out to him and Bucky took it, frowning. "What is it?"

"You listen to it."

"Yeah, I know that. But why are you giving me this?" He was going to be on the move for a while, carrying more than what was needed was stupid.

"Listen to it," she advised and Bucky put the headphones on. He clicked the button that would play the tape inside and waited.

His heart stopped when he heard the singing. "It's you!"

Melody winced and Bucky realized he'd shouted. He turned off the player and removed the headphones. "Your voice is on this tape."

"Yes," she nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. "I've been working on it for awhile now. I wanted to use a Walkman because those can't be traced like iPods. I know that I work nights and you're alone-or rather that you were alone here. If you had any nightmares, I wouldn't be there. So I wanted to give you something to help while I was away." Melody dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You don't have to take it-."

Bucky crossed the small distance between them before she could finish and pulled her into a hug. "Melody you're brilliant. I love it."

She gave a small sob. "Don't believe everything you hear about blondes." She took a shaky breath. "I put some cash in your backpack as well, front pocket. About a thousand dollars-I didn't want to withdrawal too much, didn't want any questions."

Bucky held her tighter, his chest tight as he fought back against the sadness creeping through him. "I love you Melody Frasier. I always will." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Melody trembled against him, but it wasn't for the same reasons as the previous day. "I love you too."

She pushed against his chest, breaking their embrace. Her eyes were red, Bucky noticed and he realized this wasn't the first time today that she'd been crying.

"Melody, be safe, be happy." Bucky said, voice breaking as well. "And live, live...better than you have."

"How?" she asked. "I don't know how."

"Tell Sharon the truth." He said, holding her face in his hands. "She loves you Melody, so much. You can trust her. Let her in. Let her know you."

Bucky tried to lean in, to kiss her one last time before he left but she shook her head, hand covering her mouth as she choked on a sob. "Be safe. Please."

He tried to smile but tears came instead. "The world has been looking for me for seven decades. They won't find me now."

Melody laughed, but the sound was broken. There was no humor. "I hope not."

"I'll be safe," Bucky promised. It was a rash thing to promise, he had no way to keep it. But still he promised her. As though it would help heal the pain in her heart. Heal his own.

Melody looked up at him. "Goodbye James."

By unspoken agreement, they both leaned towards one another, their lips meeting in one final kiss. It started and ended too fast and Bucky broke away, his broken heart climbing up his throat.

He stepped away from Melody, and turned away. Bucky made his way towards the back door, the same entrance he'd used the first time he'd set eyes on this place. Behind him, he heard Melody's quiet sobs.

Bucky grabbed the doorknob, unsure of where he was going to go, but at least he knew one thing. Wherever he went, Melody would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	48. Epilouge

"Hey Fraiser!"

Melody turned around, tucking her long hair behind one ear. Her shift had ended an hour ago and now she was finally making her way home.

"Yeah?" She called over the chatter of doctors and beeping machines.

Doctor Miranda Richards hurried towards her. They'd become good friends the previous winter. The circumstances of which were quiet bizarre. The two of them as well as Richards husband had been at a dinner celebrating some art museum. Miranda, had become quiet ill there and her baby's life has been in danger. There has not been time to wait for the ambulance and hospital, so Melody had called her then boyfriend Derrick Montgomery to talk her through a C-Section.

Despite the chaos of his birth, the baby boy, named William had been healthy and safe with the ambulance arriving not long after he was born.

The night had been incredibly terrifying for all parties involved (sort of, Melody as per usual had locked down her feelings but they came back once it was over.) But the experience had also bonded the two doctors. They were friends now.

"You off now?" The surgeon asked and Melody nodded.

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Good! Get some rest, you've probably earned it."

"Short shift today actually, only ten hours. What'd you need?" Richards husband, a renowned chemist was currently away in Maryland, working on a research project. Miranda had taken to visiting him often as she was able. Melody figured she was going to ask to swap a shift or two, so she could get the weekend off.

"Just wondered where you were off to," the black woman shrugged. "Normally we have to drag you from this place to get you to leave."

Melody laughed and tightened the belt on her wool coat. "That's not always true."

Richards eyes twinkled. "Yeah, it's not." She paused a moment, "So have you heard from Solider Boy recently?"

Melody shook her head, heart climbing up her throat. "No. Look Miranda, I'd love to stay and chat, but Sharon and I are supposed to meet for dinner. I don't want to be late."

Richards smiled, but this time it was forced. "Of course, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Melody said, walking towards the doors of the hospital. "You will. Bye Miranda."

And without further word, Melody walked out into the windy, chilly October evening. No, she hadn't heard from James in a very long time. The last time she had seen him in person was a year and a half ago. The day they'd said goodbye.

Melody walked on, throat thick through the streets of New York City. The chaotic noise of car engines, shouting drivers, wind and flashing signs did nothing to distract her from the memories.

Her hand curled around the little red star around her neck. She'd gotten it last month, a small package wrapped in plain brown paper with a note that said _thirty-one years is too long Melody._ The note had been typed, there has been no return address and no name, but when she'd opened the little box and saw the silver chain with the small red star, she knew.

Her first birthday present. She hadn't taken it off since.

Melody sighed, feeling her heart twist as she walked towards Bert's-her favorite bistro. She hadn't been lying to Richards when she said she was meeting Sharon. Her friend had been in Europe over the last few months and had just returned. Though Melody didn't know all the details, she knew it had been a disaster.

The Skovia Accords had divided the Avengers and when the Winter Solider had supposedly blown up the meeting for them, it had turned Captain America and several other Avengers into criminals. It had been a great mess and Sharon had only returned now from trying to clean it up.

Melody's heeled-boots clicked on the cement as she entered the patio of the bistro and she beamed when she saw the long blonde hair and leather jacket of her best friend.

Sharon stood up, beaming as well. "Mel!" She cried happily as Melody approached and wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Hi Sharon," she grunted. It was quite difficult to speak when Sharon was crushing her ribs. "I can't breathe."

"Sorry," the agent laughed and loosened her grip. "It's just really, really good to see you. I already ordered for us, I hope that's okay."

Sharon let go and both women sat down at the iron table. The building, thankfully was blocking out most of the wind.

"It's fine," Melody said, slinging her purse over the side of her chair. "I always order the same thing anyways."

Sharon smiled. "I know. So what's new?"

Melody shrugged. "Nothing. I'm still running the ER, tormenting interns and residents alike and people are still inventing new ways to get injured."

"How's that one resident doing anyways? Tucker Jones isn't it? The one you think should follow in your footsteps and go into trauma?"

Melody laughed. "He's still showing incredible promise for my specialty." She reported happily as their waiter came out, carrying two chicken sandwiches and a glass red wine and a bottle of water. Melody thanked him and grabbed the water. Twisting the cap off, she continued. "And I'm sure he daydreams about me getting hit by a bus."

Sharon snorted as she dug into her fries. "Really? When you're so lovable?"

Melody took a drink of water. "You've never had me as a teacher."

"And thank God for that. I'd be such an incompetent surgeon that you'd probably kill me."

"Probably," Melody agreed as she took a bite of her sandwich. The chicken was warm and spicy. "So, Berlin was crazy huh? Catching the Winter Solider, that's big."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but we caught the wrong guy. Barnes has done a lot, but the attack on the Accords wasn't one of them."

Melody took another drink of water. She had suspected as much. James had left her with the intent to hide, blowing things up wasn't very helpful with that one.

"Bet Steve took that well," Melody commented and she was surprised to see a very peculiar smile cross Sharon's face. "What's the face Sharon?"

"Nothing," she said a little too fast. Sharon waved a French fry airily.

"You're a bad liar," Melody informed her.

Sharon turned red. "Well, I might've sort of..." She looked around a moment and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Helped him find Barnes, and he might've kissed me at some point."

Melody choked on her water. "About damn time!" Sharon and Steve, she knew had been in limbo for the longest time, flirting and spending hours together. She'd been wondering when Steve would get a move on and do something about it.

"That was overdo," Sharon agreed, still faintly pink. "But that's enough about my love life, are you at Montgomery-?"

"Over." Melody said flatly, wincing as she recalled the disastrous ending to her three month relationship with the Pediatric surgeon. "So over."

"Why'd it end anyways?" Sharon asked, starting on her sandwich. "You never told me."

Melody sighed and fiddled with her necklace. "I have really bad intimacy issues." She said truthfully. "He wanted to be more intimate that I was able to be. Got tired of waiting."

"Asshole," Sharon said instantly. Melody smiled at her friend. The steadfast loyalty in her was priceless. But again misguided.

"He's a good man Sharon. He didn't break up with me because I couldn't be intimate, it was because I couldn't tell him why."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" Sharon asked knowingly.

"Both." She hadn't told Sharon the root of her issues and Sharon was her family. There was no way she could have trusted Derrick with her secrets.

"Mel-."

"I don't want to talk about it," she said flatly. "I'm sorry." She'd tried to keep her promise to James after he left. She'd tried to let Sharon in. She'd confronted her friend outright about her worries, namely the supposed cutting and assuring her that she was wrong. She should have told Sharon the truth then, but Melody was still too much of a coward. So instead, she just admitted to deep-rooted insecurities that she was still working on.

Sharon didn't entirely believe the story.

Their conversation hit a pause and for a while, they ate in silence. After she'd gotten brought half her sandwich, Melody broke it. "I'm sorry by the way, about Peggy."

Sharon's grin faded. "I know. You called me."

"Not the same thing as saying it in person."

Melody was about to say more, saying she'd always be there if Sharon needed her, but she was denied the chance. Her phone went off.

Sharon titled her head. "You're on call?"

"No," she dug in her purse for her phone. She didn't recognize the number, but answered it anyways. It might have been a fellow doctor. They sometimes called her from cell phones.

"Hello?"

"Hey Nightingale."

Melody nearly fell out of her chair. If she hadn't mastered handling shock, she would've done it.

"G-give me a moment." She looked at Sharon and mouthed _one minute._

Sharon looked confused, but nodded and Melody hurried into the building and made a beeline for the restroom, locking herself in a stall, she found her voice.

"I can talk now." She whispered, scarcely able to believe who she was talking to.

She could hear James's smile. "Good."

"Are you alright?" She asked, feeling tears fill her eyes even as she smiled. "I saw on the news..."

"I didn't do it," James said instantly.

"I know," she said gently. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

She sighed, feeling a weight come off her shoulders. "I'm glad." Melody licked her lips which were suddenly dry. "James...I..." She didn't know what to say, she had a hundred things on her mind, a hundred things to say, a year and a half worth of words to say. But they wouldn't come.

"I did do something bad though. Those words I warned you about? Remember them?"

Melody swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes."

"They still work." His voice was tight and Melody's heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

"James..."

"I'm in a safe place, with people who can fix it. Get that stuff out of my head." James drew in a long breath. "But until they do, I'm going into cryo again."

Melody breath caught in her chest. "They can't honestly make you-!" she realized she was near shouting and tried to regain her bearings. "They can't make you do that."

"They're not," said James softly. Melody knew that tone. He used it whenever he comforted her. "It's my choice."

Melody felt a tear burn down her cheek. "Oh."

"I don't know how long I'll be sleeping for," James continued. "I could use a good song before I go off."

Melody felt more tears slither down her face and she clung to the stall for support. Her knees were shaking. "Any requests?" she asked, the words so familiar on her lips. She'd said them so many times to him, but this time, Melody knew it was different.

"Not this time. Just sing for me. Please."

 _I don't even know if I can._ She thought, but she swallowed hard anyways, knowing she would try. She would have to try, for him.

_"I found God/on the corner of First in Amistad/all alone smoking his last cigarette..."_

Melody sang the song in a hushed way, not wanting to be overheard and trying to control the tears that were so easily springing to her eyes.

James said nothing as she sang, but as she let go of the last note, he spoke up.

"Nightingale," he said, his voice rough. Melody wasn't sure if he was crying too. "I..."

"I know," Melody said, grabbing her necklace again. "And thank for the necklace."

"You got it?"

"Yes," she said, biting her lip. "I love it." _I love you._ But she didn't say that, there was no point. He already knew. "When do you go under?"

"Any second now they're gonna come and get me."

Melody sighed, and tried to muffle the sound of her tears. It didn't work.

"Don't cry Nightingale. I'll be alright."

"I know," she whimpered, feeling pathetic.

James sighed and his end of the line was silent for a while. "Nightingale?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens, I'll never regret choosing you."  Melody's broken heart tightened in her chest. "I have to go, goodbye."

 _I thought we were done saying goodbye._ "Goodbye."   
  
The line went dead and Melody slipped the phone into her pocket and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat.

When she exited the stall, however the bathroom was not empty as it had been earlier. Sharon was waiting by the sink and her eyebrows were raised expectantly.

"Sorry," Melody apologized, turning on one of the sinks and splashing some water on her red face.

"What happened?"

"Unexpected call," Melody mumbled, patting her face dry with a paper towel.

"From?"

"An old friend," Melody said. She'd never told Sharon how much James meant to her. That would not have been a pleasant conversation. As far as Sharon was concerned, they'd just been a doctor and patient. "Gave me a bit of bad news."

"Anyone I know?"

"Not really," Melody shrugged. It was partly true. Sharon didn't know James half as well as Melody herself did.

"Can I do anything?"

"Yeah." Melody decided, examining her weary expression in the mirror.

"Name it."

Tears welled in Melody's eyes again. "I really need a hug."

Sharon obliged instantly and Melody pressed her face into her friend's shoulder, crying softly.

"It's okay." The agent said, rubbing her back. "It's gonna be alright."

Melody didn't reply. She knew it was true, but her heart was being torn to shreds. Saying goodbye once had been hell. Doing it again had been a new level.

"Come on," Sharon said, letting go of her and looping her arm through Melody's. "I paid our tab already, lets go back to my place and watch surgeries."

Melody smiled in spite of herself. "You don't have any of those."

"No," Sharon agreed. "But the database of my job does, won't be hard to hack into it."

"You hate watching surgery."

"You don't."

Melody laughed, warmth trickling through her as she looked at her friend. "Actually," she said, "I think I'd rather watch an old movie."

Sharon gave her a wide eyed look. "Who are you and what have you done with Mel Fraiser?"

Melody laughed and led Sharon out of the bistro. Her heart was still heavy in her chest and it was still broken. But she wasn't alone. Sharon was at her side, ready to leap in at a moments notice and be there for her.

She felt a spot of warmth at her throat, right where the star rested. And she had James. Asleep in cryo-freeze or not. Melody knew one thing for sure, he loved her. He loved her, scars and all.

And for now, that would be enough to put her broken heart back together. She was loved. One source was at her side, hailing a taxi. Another was God-knew where and only there as a result of trying to keep her safe from harm.

She knew, without a doubt she was loved. And that, she thought as she got into the cab, was worth more than gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after nearly a decade away from fanfiction and fandom, I've completed Solider Boy. I'd like to say thank you to those who read through to the end. Those who left a kudos, those who voted or those who were silent and simply read, thank you to all of you! I'm glad, for whatever reason, you stuck through this fic until the end. My hope is that you enjoyed it! 
> 
> And (for now at least) the story has come to an end, thanks so much for reading! :)


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